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■[■{UM THhiv OKIGIXAI. PAINTIXG 



THE 



CONNOISSEUR 



By Mr. TOWN^ 



CRITIC AND CENSOR GENERAL. 



Non de villis domibusve alicnis, 
Nee male necne Jepos saltet : sed quod magis ad r;os 
Pcrtinet, et nescire malum est, agitamus, 

HOR. 



COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 



LONDON: 

PUBLISHED BY JONES & COMPANY, 

3, ACTON PLACE, KINGSLAND ROAD. 



1826. 



7K I3^^ 



CONTENTS. 



Na. 
1. 



Survey of the town. Characters at 
Garraway's, Batson's, St. Paul's, 
and the chapter Coffee Houses ; at 
the Temple, the Bedford Coffee 
House, White's, and other places. — 
Mr. Town's Design in these Papers 
—Col. and Thorn 1 

2. On the different Branches of Virtu. 

Letter, containing a Catalogue of 
Pictures collected abroad by an emi- 
nent Jew. Letter from a Game- 
ster, advising the author to undertake 
a Defence of Gaming — Col. and 
Thorn S 

3. The Ocean of Ink, a dVeam — Col, and 

Thorn 5 

4. Account of a new order of Females, 

called Demi- Reps — Col. and Thorn. . 7 

5. Letter from a Physician, with the 

Account of a Plague newly broke 
eut in London. Different Appear- 
ances and Effects of it on a Great 
Man ; on Members of Parliament ; 
on Land and Sea Officers ; on a 
Common Councilman, and an Alder- 
man of the City: on the Club at 
White's ; on the Ladies, particularly 
a Maid of Honour; and others — Col. 
and Thorn. 8 

6. Education of the Muses, a Fable ; 

with its Application to Authors. 
Progress of an author exemplified in 
Mr. Town's own Life — Col. and 
Thorn. 10 

7. Letter on Married People fondling 

before Company. Behaviour of a 
loving Couple at Dinner. Indecency 
of Modern Plays censured — Col. and 
Thorn 12 

8. On the external Ornaments used by 

Writers. Advantages arising to 
them from the Arts used in Printing 
— Col. and Thorn 14 

9. On Free-thinking. Abuses commit- 

ted by the Vulgar in this Point. 
Free-thinking Debates at the Robin 



Page i No. Page 
1 Hood Society. The Unbeliever's 
Creed. — Mr. Town's Address to 
both Houses of Parliament— Co/. 
and Thorn 16 

10. On the Want of Learning in Land- 
officers — Col. and Thorn. ...... 17 

11. On the Excursions of young Acade- 
mics to London. Steele's Character 
of young Bookwit, an Oxonian. 
Conversation between two in the 
Bedford Coffee House, and a Set of 
them at the Shakspeare. Journal of a r 
Week's Transactions of an Oxonian 
in Town. Ode, imitated from Ho- 
race, sent by a fellow Collegian to 
one of these Academical Rakes — Un- 
known 19 

12. Absurdity of Lord Bolingbroke repre- 
senting Moses as making Beasts ac- 
countable for Crimes. Trial of 
Beasts, a Vision. Indictments ' 
against a Hog, a Cat, a Parrot, a 
Milch Ass, a Monkey, a Lion, and 
other Animals — Col. and Thorn.. . 20 

13. Letter from Mr. Village, concerning 
Elections. Account of a Borough 
Town divided into two Parties, 
Christians and Jews.. An Anti-Ju- 
daic Entertainment, Character of a 
Country Knight, a violent Enemy to 
the Jews — Col., and Thorn. . . . 2S 

14. Letter, complaining of the Whisper- 
ers and Gigglers among the Fair 
Sex — Cd. and Thorn. Instance of 
their rude Behaviour during a Visit. 
Whispering and Giggling improper 
at Church, in the Play House, and 
other places — Earl of Cork ..... 24 

15. On Bets ; particularly, on the Cus- 
tom of Pitting, as practised at 
White's ; i. e. staking one Man's 
Life against another. Character of 
Montano, a noble Gamester — Col. 
and Thorn 25 

16. Letter from Oxford, on the Story of 
Shakspeare's Merchant of Venice^ 



CONTENTS. 



No. Page 
Copy of an original Ballad, (preserv- 
ed in the Ashmolean Museum) from 
which Shakspeare is supposed to 
have borrowed part of his Plot — Col. 
and Thorn 27 

17. Letter, proving the City of London to 
be a University. Arts and Sciences 
taught there in greater perfection 
than at Oxford or Cambridge — Earl 
of Cork 29 

1^8. On the Dishonest}'- of Connoisseurs : 
Instances of it, and Punishment 
proposed for it. Story of a Virtuo- 
so's Design to rob a Church — Col. 
and Thorn. 31 

19. Letter, on the different Tastes in 
Eatings Luxury at White's. Dif- 
ference between the Taverns about 
St. James's and the 'Change. Of 
the Taverns about Covent Garden. 
Story of a Cook at one of them, toss- 
ing up the Shoe of a Fille de Joye in 
a Ragout. Characters to be met 
with at Chop Houses, &c.^ — Letter 
from Goliath English, remonstrat- 
ing against the fashronable Neglect 
shown to Roast Beef— JEarZ of Cork . 33 

90. IjCtter from a Lady of Quality in the 
Country, describing the Miseries 
she is obliged to undergo on account 
of Election Matters. — Reflections 
on the dangerous Consequences of 
Ladies interfering in Elections ; with 
a proposal to prevent them — Col. and 
Thorn 35 

21. Tquassouw and Knonmquaih-a, a 

Hottentot Story — Col. and Thorn. . 

22. Letter on the modern Method of 

Education, Characters of Lady Belle 
Modely and the Colonel her Hus- 
band. Consequences of the fashion- 
able Education of their Son and 
Daughter — Col. and Thorn. . . . 

23. Letter from Mr. Village, with a De- 

scription of a Quack Doctor, and a 
Company of Strolling Players in a 
Country Town — Col. and Thorn. 

24. On the Learning of the Polite World. 

Proper Studies for Persons of Fa- 
shion. Letter containing a Scheme 
for a Polite Circulating Library : 
with a Specimen of the Books — Col. 
and Thorn 42 

25. On the Vanity of People making an 

Appearance above their circum- 
stances. Pride and Poverty of a 
little Frenchman, known by the 
name of Count. Artifices in Dress 
made use of by the Shabby Genteel. 
Second Hand Gentry among the 
Women. Instances of this Vanity 



36 



38 



40 



No. Pag« 

in several Families :— And in the 
IVIen of Pleasure without Fortunes. 
Story of an Economist who kept a 
]M istress— Co/, and Thorn. ... 43 

26. On the Amusements of Sunday. Be- 

haviour of Citizens, and Diary of a 
Cit's Transactions on that Day. 
Proposal for abolishing Christianity, 
and turning the Churches into Free- 
thinking Meeting Houses— CoZ. and 
Thorn 45 

27. On Hard Words. Affected Use of 

them censured — In Abstract Specula- 
tions — In Voyage Writers — In the 
Pulpit — In Essays, and other Fa- 
miliar Writings— And in Common 
Conversation — Col. and Thorn. . . 47 

28. On Conscience — Terrible Exit of 

Tom Dare-Devil, a Buck and an 
Atheist. Summary of the most no- 
torious Actions of his Life — Col. and 
Thorn. 48 

29. On the Vanity of Authors. Diffe- 

rent Reception and Fate of these 
Essays. Mr. Town's Comparison of 
himself to a Paper Kite— CoZ. and 
Thorn 60 

30. On Boxing. Account of a Boxing 

Match between Slack and Petit, 
Encomium on Slack. Prohibition 
of Boxing lamented. Present Dis- 
tress of Bruisers. Boxing consider- 
ed as a Branch of Gaming — Col. and 
Thorn 61 

31. Letter on Duelling. Mr. Town an 

Advocate for it. Proposal for mak- 
ing Duels a Public Diversion. 
Form of a Challenge, with the An- 
swer, from two Duelists— Co/, and 
Thorn 65 

32. Letter against Snuff-taking. This 

Custom inexcusable in the Men, but 
abominable in the other Sex — Col. 
and Thorn 55 

33. Letter on the Villas of our Trades- 

men. Description of them. A 
Sunday Visit to a Citizen at his 
country House, with an Account of 
\i—Earl of Cork 57 

34. On the Juggle of the Theatre, with 

respect to Speaking, Acting, and 
Dress. Fine Speaking exploded. 
Attitudes censured. Impropriety of 
Dress poiiited out, in Remeo and 
Macbeth— Co/, and Thorn. ... 58 

35. Letter, in praise of the Robin Hood 

Society. Amazing Eloquence of 
their Orators. Subject of their De- 
bates. Account of some former 
Members of this Society — Col. and 
T/urrn e^ 



CONTENTS. 



No. ^AGE 

36. On Dress. ' Fashions in Queen Eliza- 
beth's Days compared with the pre- 
sent. Revolutions in the Female 
Dress. Dx*ess the Study of the 
Male Part of the World. Birth 
and Seci'et History of Fashion — Col. 
and Thorn ." . . 62 

S7. Panegyric on the Clare Market Ora- 
tor. Subjects of his Lectures. Ele- 
gance of his Advertisements. Ori- 
ginal Letter from the Olrator to Mr. 
Town. — Letter from James Wait, to 
prove that Gentlemen come to the 
Robin Hood Society — Col. and 
Thorn 64 

38. On Courtship. Marriages between 

Persons, of Quality not founded on 
Love. Plan of a Repository for 
Males and Females, to be disposed of 
in Marriage to the best Bidder, with 
a specimen — Col. and Thorn. . . 65 

39. On the Vanity of pompous Funerals, 

Of the Hearse and Mourning Coach. 
— Of the Achievement, — and other 
Formalities in Mourning — Col. and 
Thorn. 67 

Letter, describing two Characters 
among Gamesters ; the Dupe, and 
the Sharper— ^ar^ of Cork ... 69 

Letter from Mr. Village, with a Copy 
of a Letter from a young Cantab, to 
his friend in Town, giving an ac- 
count of his Exploits at Newmarket 
Races. — Newmarket considered as a 
Supplement to the University of 
Cambridge — Col. and Thorn. . . 70 

42. Study of the English Language re- 

commended. Neglect of it owing 
to the Pride of Men of Learning, 
and tJje Affectation of fine Gentle- 
men—Co?, and Thorn 72 

43. Survey of the Audience at the Play 

Houses. Behaviour of Persons on 
the Stage — In the Boxes — In the 
Flesh Market— In the Pit, the Court 
of Criticism — In the Middle, and 
Upper Galleries — Distribution of the 
Theatre into Pit, Box, and Gallery, 
accounted for in the Tale of a Tub- 
Co?, and Thorn 74 

The Female World made up almost 
entirely of Ladies. Distribution of 
them into Married Ladies— Maiden 
or Young Ladies — Ladies of Quality 
— Fine Ladies— and Ladies of Plea- 
sure — Col. and Thorn 76 

On News Papers. Their Articles of 
News. Subjects of their Advertise- 
ments. Intrigues carried on by them. 
Want of Newspapers among the 
Ancients regretted. Specimen of 



40, 



41. 



4-k 



45 



No. 



46, 



47. 



48. 



77 



79 



60. 



51. 



52. 



53. 



64. 

55. 
66. 



82 



84 



Page 
Curious Advertisements in the Daily 

Papers — Cul. and Thorn 

Letter from a Country Gentleman, 
concerning the Practice of Face 
Painting among the Ladies in Town 
.—Duncombe 

On Macklin's British Inquisition. 
Speech on the Question, — Whether 
the Stage might not be made more 
conducive to Virtue? — Col. and 
Thorn 81 

On Christmas. Celebration of it in 
Town and Country. On Christmas 
Boxes. This Season disagreeable to 
Persons of Fashion — Col. and Thorn. 

Letter containing a Scheme for a Fe- 
male Parliament.— Usefulness of it, 
and Objections against it. — Account 
of the Covent Garden Society, con- 
sisting of certain Good-natured Fe- 
males, divided into Ladies and Com- 
mons — Duncombe ...... 

On Suicide. Account of the Last 
Guinea Club. Assembly at White's, 
a kind of Last Guinea Club. Dif- 
ferent Ways of Suicide between vul- 
gar Persons and Persons of Fashion. 
Punishments for Suicides proposer-. 
Frequency of Self-Murders in Eng- 
land falsely imputed to the Climate. 
Despair brought on by extravagance 
and Debauchery, a Cause of Suicide 
— -Free- thinldng another. — Specimen 
of a Bill of Suicide after the Man- 
ner of, but distinct from, the com- 
mon Bills of Mortality — Duncombe . 

On kept Mistresses and Keepers. 
Character of a Hen-pecked Keeper— 
of a Keeper, a Married Man — of a 
Keeper, an Old Man. Shifts of 
Persons in middling or low Life, 
who take Girls into Keeping — Dun- 
combe 

Two Letters, from a Pretty Miss in 
Breeches— and from a Blood in Pet- 
ticoats — Duncombe .... • . 

On Dram Drinking. Rich Cordials 
(however recommended by their spe- 
cious foreign Names) no less perni- 
cious than common Gin. Letter 
from a Husband, complaining of his 
Wife, who has taken to Drinking by 
way of Medicine — Col. and Thorn. . 

On Frolics. Instances among the 
Bucks, &c. and among the Ladies- 
Co?, and Thorn 93 

On a New Sect among the Ladies, 
called Evites — Col. and Thorn. . . 95 

On Superstitions in Love. Lettei- 
from a country Girl, enumerating 
the several Tricks which she bad 



86 



8& 



99 



92 



VI 



CONTENTS. 



No. 



67. 



68. 



60. 



61. 



62. 



63. 



64. 



65. 



66. 



67. 



100 



. 102 



106 



107 



Page 
tried, in order to know who was to 
be her Husband — Col. and Thorn. . 97 

On the Import and Extent of the 
phrase Good Company — Col. and 
Thorn 98 

Proposal for Pressing all the useless 
and detrimental Members of the 
Community, such as Country Squires 
—Town Squires — Bloods — Duellists 

— Fortune- Hunters — Gamesters — 
and Free-thinkers — Col. and Thorn. . 

Superstitions observed in the Country 
•—Col. and Thorn. . . . 

Proposal to erect a School for Whist 
for the Instruction of young Ladies 
^Col. and Thorn 103 

On Sectaries and Enthusiasts. Sects 
founded by the lowest Mechanics. 
History of Religion, Superstition, 
and Atheism — Col. and Thorn. . . 

Debates in the Female Parliament, in 
the Committee of Religion. Speech 
of Miss Graveairs, setting forth that 
the Female Dress inclined to Popery. 
Resolutions proposed to prevent it. 
Debates upon them — Duncombe 

On Race Horses. Panegyric on 
White Nose. Pedigrees of Race 
Horses carefully preserved. Praises 
of the Jockey. Proposal to pre- 
serve his Breed. Genealogy of a 
Jockey — Col. and Thorn 108 

Petition of the Dogs, a Dream. 
Speeches of a Greyhound, a Pointer, 
a Lap Dog, and others — Duncombe . 110 

Letter, remonstrating against the Use 
of Paint among the Men. — Descrip- 
tion of a Male Toilet. Characters 
of John Hardman, and Mr. Jessamy 

— Unknown ■, 112 

On Masquerades. Fantastic Dresses 

there. Plan for a Naked Masque- 
rade—Co/, and Thorn 113 

On Imitation. Our present Writers 
only Copiers of others. Verses on 
Imitation — Lloyd 115 

On the Public Gardens. Dearness of 
the Provisions there. Description 
and Conversation of a Citizeji, with 
his Wife and two Daughters, at 
Vauxhall— Co/, and Thorn. . . .116 

Female Poets Riding Pegasus, a 
Vision— Co/, and Thorn 118 

Letters — from an Author to Mr. 
Town, with a Proffer of his Assist- 
ance — from another Author, com- 
plaining of the Custom of giving 
Money to servants— from a ]Metho- 
dist Teacher— Letter, on the wonder- 
ful Increase in the Order of Gentle- 
men—Co/, and Thorn 120 



No. 
71. 



72. 



73. 



74. 



12^ 



123 



75. 



76. 



77. 



78. 



80. 



81. 



82. 



83. 



84. 



85. 



Pag-i 

Of Essay Writing. — Mr. Town's 
Character as an Essay Writer. Sub- 
jects of his Essays, and manner of 
treating them — Col. and Thorn. . 122 

On Songs. — Mechanical Practice of 
modern Song Writers — Col. and 
Thorn. — Pastoral Dialogue, a Cento 
from the most celebrated New Songs 
— Lloyd 

On the present State of Monuments. 
—Flattery of Epitaphs.— Heathen 
Gods improper Decorations for 
Christian Monuments— XZo^cf 

On the Modesty of the Moderns, in 
including all the Vices, instead of 
Virtues, in the Character of a Fine 
Gentleman or Lady. — Account of a 
New Treatise on Ethics, or System 
of Immoral Philosophy — Col. and 
Thorn 127 

On Good Nature. — Analogy betweea 
clothing the Body and adorning the 
Mind. Extract from Swift's Tale 
of a Tuh—Uy^cnown 128 

On the present State of Politics.— 
Letter from Mr. Village, with the 
Character of a Country Politician — 
Col. and Thorn 130 

Letter from a Mind and Body Clo- 
thier ; with a Plan of his Warehouse 
for clothing the Mind together with 
the Body— Ci;/. and Thorn. . . .131 

On the Use of social Intei'course be- 
tween Persons of different Ages and 
Professions. — Want of it between 
Father and Son — Unknown . . . 133 

Description of a London Tradesman 
in the Country — Col. and Thorn. . 135 

Letter from a Husband, complaining 
of bis being ruined by his Wife's 
Relations— Co/, and Thorn. . . .136 

Letter from Mr. Village, giving an 
Account of his Visit to Lord Court- 
ly. — Character of the Honourable 
W. Hastings, by the Earl of Shafts- 
bury— Co/, and Thorn 138 

Letter of Advice to a young Acade- 
mic. Characters of the Free-thinker 
— Gamester — Drunkard — Lounger 
— Wrangler — and others — Unknown 140 

On Alliteration. Ridiculous Affecta- 
tion of it in INIodern Poets. Pro- 
posal for the Rhymer's Play-thing 
or Poetaster's Horn Book — Col. and 
Thorn 141 

On Sea Officers. Their unpolished 
Behaviour on Shore. — Their Con- 
tempt of New Improvements in Na- 
vigation. — Of Sea Chaplains— Co/. 
and Thorn 14S 

Account of the Female Thermometer. 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 



No. 

86. 

87. 
88. 

89. 

90. 
91. 
92. 



146 



148 



94. 

95. 

96. 
97. 



99. 



100, 



101 



102, 



Page 
Secret Affections of Ladies disco- 
vered by it. — Experiments upon it at 
the Play Houses— Operas— Masque- 
rades — Public Gardens — and other 

Places— Co/, and Thorn 146 

Letter from Orator Higgins, relating 
bis Progress in Literature by Study- 
ing in the Streets— Co/, and Thorn. 
On Eating. Character of Cromwell, 

and his Eating Club — Unknown 
On Ideal Happiness. Authors pos- 
sessed of it, especially Essay Writers. 
Mr. Town's Description of his 

Study— Co/, and Thorn 150 

On Fondness for animals — Instances 
of it in a Visit to a Lady. — Absurdi- 
ty of providing for Animals by Will 

—Col. and Thorn 151 

On Genius and Application. Hare 
and Tortoise, a Fable— X/oi/d . . 153 
Letter containing the Character of a 

Notable Wife— Co/, and Thorn. . . 154 
On Drinking. Characters of Several 
Hard Drinkei's. Various Effects of 
Drinking. Stoi*y of Addison and 
Steele. Evils resulting from Hard 
Drinking — Col. and Thorn. . . . 156 
Of the Lottery.— History of several 
Adventurers who got the £10,000 — 

Cd. and Thorn 158 

Mr. Town considered in a Military 
Capacity. His Articles of News, in 
the Warlike Style— Co/, and Thorn. . 160 
The Bride Cake. A Vision— Co/. 

and Thorn 161 

Letter, with a Scheme for a Literary 

Register Office — Col. and Thorn. 
Of Hangers-on. Tuft Hunters at 
Cambridge, a Species of them — An 
Humbler Sort of Hangers-on in the 
Country — Col. and Thorn, . . . 
Letter from a Husband, complaining 
of his Wife's excessive Generosity 
and Good-nature — Unknown . . . 
Letter containing the Plan of a New 
Almanack for Persons of Quality. 
Specimen of it, in Observations on 
the Month of May — Unknown . . 
Letter from a Hanger-on, with the 
History of his Life. His Depen- 
dence on a Nobleman in the Country 
—on a Gentleman from Ireland — on 
a Colonel of the Guards— on a Jew 
—and othei*s — Col. and Thorn. . . 
On the New Year. Emblematical 
Image of Janus explained— Moral to 
be dra>vn from it — Colman 
Letter on Nobility. Vanity of Pedi- 
grees. Story of a Nobleman and 
bis Coachman in Hell. Pedigree of 
a Footman— £ar/ of Cork .... ITS 



164 



165 



166 



168 



169 



171 



No. 
103. 



104. 



105. 



106. 



107. 



Page 

Letter from a Husband, complaining 
of his Wife's excessive Neatness in 
her House— Co/, and Thorn. . . . 175 

On the Abuse of Words — Instances 
of it in the Word Ruined — Chai'ac- 
ters of several, said to be Ruined.— 
Odd Application of this Word, by 
a Girl upon the Town — Unknown . 177 

Letter from Mr. Village to Mr. 
Town, containing the Character of 
Jack Quickset, a Sporting Parson in 
the North— Co/, and Thorn. . . . 178 

On the Solemn Fast — Remarks on 
some Laxities in the Observance of 
it— Co/. a7id Thorn. . . . . . .180 

Letter from Cantab, complaining of 
too great Stress laid on Mathemati- 
cal Studies in that University — Un- 
known. Letter from Michael Kraw- 
bridge, on the Lady's Diary — Earl 
of Cork 182 

108. On Cursing and Sweai'ing — Col. and 

Thorn 184 

109. On Vulgar Errors. — Specimen of a 

Supplement to Sir Thomas Brown's 
Treatise ; Refutation of the follow- 
ing Vulgar Eri'ors, That a Maid 
cannot be with Child — That Gaming 
depends on Chance — That Matrimo- 
ny brings People together — That the 
Sabbath is a Day of Rest — That 
there is any such Thing as an Old 
Woman — That the Gospel is an Ob- 
ject of Belief— Co/, and Thorn. , . 185 

110. Letter, containing a Proposal to tax 

all fashionable Vices and Amuse- 
ments, viz. Routs, Drums, Card- 
Tables, &c. — French Fopperies, and 
French Servants — Kept Mistresses, ' 
and Ladies of Pleasure — Duellists — 
Advertisements to the Virtuosi in 
Flowers — Col. and Thorn. . . .187 

111. Letter, containing the Character of 

the delicate Billy Suckling — Cowper 188 

112. Letter on Caprioles, a whimsical 

Decoration on the Heads of the 
Ladies. Scheme to carry on Court- 
ship by means of them — Mr. Town's 
Proposal to extend the Use of Cap- 
rioles to the Gentlemen — Specimen 
of the Accounts of Matches drawn 
up in the Sporting Phrase — Un- 
known 190 

113. On the Modern Taste in adorning 

Gardens with the Statues of Pagan 
Deities. — Letter From Moses Or- 
thodox, proposing a Poll Tax on 
Gods— Earl of Cork . . . . .192 

114. On the Character of an Author. — 

Meeting between Voltaire and Con- 
greve — Different Opinions concern- 



via 



CONTENTS. 



No. Page 
ing Mr. Town, as an Author — 
Col. and Thorn 193 

15. Letter from Christopher Ironside, an 

Old Bachelor, complaining of the 
Indignities received hy him from the 
Ladies— Cottyjer 195 

16. On the Three Great Professions. — 

Remarks on the other Professions of 
— An Author — A Playei* — ^A Pimp 
— A Gamester — And a Highway- 
man — Col. and Thorn 197 

117. The Temple of Usury. A Vision- 

Co?, and Thorn 199 

118. History of the Birth and Family of 

Nonsense — Col. and Thorn. , . . 201 

119. Of keeping a Secret. — Characters of 

Faithless Confidants — Cowper . . 205 
190. On Taste— Co/, and Thorn. . . .204 

121. On Match Making.— Of Match 

Makers hy Profession — Account of a 
droll Accident occasioned hy the 
Mistake of a Match Maker— Co/. 
and Thorn. 206 

122. A Dedication in a New Manner, con- 

taining a Panegyric on all the Vices 
of a Fine Gentleman — Col. and 
Thorn 207 

123. Secret History of Infants brought to 

the Foundling Hospital. A Vision 

— Col. ana Tnorn, ...... 208 

124. Of Love. — Characters of various 

Lovers — Col. and Thorn 210 

125. Letter from a Gentleman of Cam- 

bridge in two Poems, viz. — The 
Satyr and the Pedlar : a Fable. — 
Epistle to a Friend, on the modern 
Notions of Correctness — Lloyd . . 212 

126. On Preaching. — Inflamed Oratory 

and extravagant Gestures improper 
in the Pulpit — Pi-etty Preachers con- 
demned — Col. and Thorn 214 

127. Letter, containing the Character of a 

Jealous Wife— Co/, and Thorn. . . 216 
123. Letter from Sir A. Humkin, com- 
plaining of his Lady's violent pas- 
sion for Music — Col. and Thorn. . 217 
129. Letter from Thomas Vainall, an Old 
Bachelor, describing himself and his 
Sycophants, and asking Advice con- 
cerning the Disposal of his Fortune 
by his last Will— Co/, and Thorn. 



220 



222 



No. Pagb 
Mr. Town's Reflections on this Sub- 
ject— JE:arZ of Cork 219 

130. Letter from Lady Humkin, contain- 

ing a Vindication of herself, on ac- 
count of her Passion for Music — Un- 
knoivn. .' 

131. On Indolence— Proposal for a Bury- 

ing ground on a new Plan. — Speci- 
men of Epitaphs likely to be found 
there — Col. and Thorn. . . 

132. On keeping low Company. — Charac- 

ter of Toby Bumper — Col. and 
Thorn 223 

133. Letter from Ignoramus, containing a 

New Plan for studying the Law — 
Character of Tom Riot — Col. and 
Thorn 224 

134. Letter from Mr. Village, giving an 

Account of the present State of 
Country Churches, their Clergy, and 
their Congregations — Cowper . . 226 

135. The Cit's Country Bos. A Poem— 

Lloyd 228 

136. On the Knowledge of the World- 

Characters of Sir Harry Flash, and 
his Brother Richard— Co/, and 
Thorn 229 

137. Letter from a Lady of Fashion, com- 

plaining of her Lord's Pride in keep- 
ing a Table, and showing the Extra- 
vagance of his Entertainments — Col. 
<and Thorn 280 

138. On Conversation — the chief Pests of 

Society pointed out — Those who 
converse irrationally considered as 
imitating the Language of Difi'erent 
Animals — Couper 232 

139. Farewell Letter from Mr. Village, 

giving an Account of the Reception 
which The Connoisseur met with 
in the Country — Mr. Town's Re- 
flections on the Reception he has 
met with in London, considering 
himself in the threefold Capacity of 
Connoisseur, Critic, and Censor 
General— Co/. a7id Thorn. . . . 234 

140. Mr. Town's Farewell to the Public, 

containing a List of his Correspon- 
dents, together with a full Account 
and Description of Himself.— Co/. 
a7id Thorn S'35 



THE 



CONNOISSEUR. 



By MR. TOWN, 



CRITIC AND CENSOR GENERAL. 



No. 1.] Thursday, Jan. 31, 1754. 



Ordine gentis 



Mores, et studia, et populos, et prcElia dicam. Virg. 

Their studies and pursuits in order shown, 
•Tis mine to mark the Manners of the Town. 

AS I have assumed the character of Censor 
General I shall follow the example of the 
old Roman Censor ; the first part of whose duty 
was to review the people, and distribute them 
into their several divisions. I shall therefore 
enter upon my oflace, by taking a cursory survey 
of what is usually called the Town. In this I 
shall not confine myself to the exact method of a 
geographer, but carry the reader from one quar- 
ter to another, as it may suit my convenience, 
or best contribute to his entertainment. 

"When a comedian, celebrated for his excel- 
lence in the part of Shylock, first undertook that 
character, he made daily visits to the centre of 
business, the 'Change and the adjacent coffee- 
houses ; that by a frequent intercourse and con- 
versation with "the unforeskinn'd race," he 
iLight habituate himself to their air and deport- 
ment. A like desire of penetrating into the 
most secret springs of action in these people has 
often led me there ; but 1 was nevermore divei'ted 
than at Garraway's a few days before the draw- 
ing of the lottery. I not only could read hope, 
fear, and all the various passions excited by a 
love of gain, strongly pictured in the faces of 
those who came to buy ; but I remarked with 
no less delight, the many little artifices made 
use of to allure adventurers, as well as the visi- 



ble alterations in the looks of the sellers, accord- 
ing as the demand for tickets gave occasion to 
raise or lower their price. So deeply were the 
countenances of these bubble-brokers impressed 
with an attention to the main chance, and their 
minds seemed so dead to all other sensations, 
that one might almost doubt, where money is 
out of the case, whether a Jew " has eyes, hands, 
organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions." 
From Garraway's it is but a short step to a 
gloomy class of mortals, not less intent on gain 
than the stock-jobber : I mean the dispensers of 
life and death, who flock together like birds of 
prey watching for carcases, at Batson's. I never 
enter this place, but it serves as a memento mori 
to me. What a formal assemblage of sable suits, 
and tremendous perukes ! I have often met here 
a most intimate acquaintance, whom I have 
scarce known again ; a sprightly young fellow, 
with whom I have spent many a jolly hour; but 
being just dubbed a graduate in physic, he has 
gained such an entire conquest over the risible 
muscles, that he hardly vouchsafes at any time 
to smile. I have heard him harangue, with all 
the oracular importance of a veteran, on the 
possibility of Canning's subsisting for a whole 
month on a few bits of bread ; and he is now pre- 
paring a treatise, in which will be set forth a new 
and infallible method to prevent the spreading 
of the plague from France into England. Bat- 
son's has been reckoned the seat of solemn stupi- 
dity : yet it is not totally devoid of taste and 
common sense. They have among them physi- 
cians, who can cope with the most eminent law- 
yers or divines ; and critics, who can relish the 
%al volatile of a witty composition, or determine 
B 



2 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 1. 



how much fire is requisite to sublimate a tragedy 
secundum artem. 

Emerging from these dismal regions, I am 
glad to breathe the pure air in St. Paul's coflFee- 
house ; where, (as I possess the highest venera- 
tion for our clergy) I cannot contemplate the 
magrificence of the ;athedral Avithout reflecting 
on the abject condition of those " tattered 
crapes," who are said to ply here for an occa- 
sional burial or sermon, with the same regu- 
larity as the happier drudges, who salute us 
with the cry of "coach, Sir," or "chair, your 
honour." 

And here ray publisher would not forgive me, 
was I to leave the neighbourhood without tak- 
ing notice of the Chapter Coffee-house, which, 
is frequented by those encouragers of literature, 
and (as they are styled by an eminent critic) 
" not the worst judges uf merit, the booksellers." 
The conversation here naturally turns upon the 
newest publications ; but their criticisms are 
somewhat singular. When they say a good 
book, they do not mean to praise the style or 
sentiment, but the quick and extensive sale of 
it. Tliat book in the phrase of the Conger is 
best, which sells most; and if the demand for 
Quarles should be greater than for Pope, he 
would have the highest place on the rubric-post. 
There are also many parts of every work liable 
to their remai'ks, which fall not within the 
notice of less accurate observers. A few nights 
ago I saw one of thesv, gentlemen take up a 
sermon, and after seeming to peruse it for some 
time with great attention, he declared, " it was 
very good English." The reader will judge 
whether I was most surprised or diverted, when 
I discovered, that he was not commending the 
purity and elegance of the diction, but the 
beauty of the type ; which, it seems, is known 
among the printers by that appellation. We 
must not, however, think the members of the 
Conger strangers to the deeper parts of litera- 
ture ; for as carpenters, smiths, masons, and all 
mechanics smell of the trade they labour at, 
booksellers take a peculiar turn from their con- 
nections with books and authors. The character 
of the bookseller is commonly formed on the 
writers in his service. Thus one is a politician 
or a deist ; another affects humour, or aims at 
turns of wit and repartee ; while a third per- 
haps is gi'ave, moral, and sententious. 

The Temple is the harrier that divides the 
city and suburbs ; and the gentlemen who re- 
side there, seem influenced by the situation of 
the place they inhabit. Templars are, in general, 
a kind of citizen-courtiers. They aim at the 
air and mien of the drawing-room ; but the 
holyday smartness of a 'prentice, heightened 
with some additional touches of the rake or 
coxcomb, betrays itself in every thing they do. 
The Temple, howevei", is stocked with its pecu- 
liar beaux, wits, poets, critics, and every charac- 



ter in the gay world : and it is a thousand 
pities, that so pretty a society should be disgraced 
with a few dull fellows, who can submit to 
puzzle themselves with cases and reports, and 
have not taste enough to follow the genteel 
method of studying the law. 

I shall now, like a true student of the Temple, 
hurry from thence to Covent- Garden, the ac- 
knowledged region of gallantry, wit, and criti- 
cism ; and hope to be excused for not stopping 
at George's in my way, as the Bedford affords 
a greater variety of nearly the same characters. 
This coffee-house is every night crowded with 
men of parts. Almost every one you meet is a 
polite scholar and a wit. Jokes and bons mots 
are echoed from box to box ; every branch of 
literature is critically examined, and the raeric 
of every production of the press, or performance 
at the theatres, weighed and determined. This 
school (to which I am myself indebted for a 
great part of my education, and in which 
though unworthy, I am now arrived at the 
honour of being a public lecturer) has bred up 
many authors, to the amazing entertainment 
and instruction of their readers. Button's, the 
gi'and archetype of the Bedford, was frequented 
by Addison, Steele, Pope, and the rest of that 
celebrated set, who flourished at the beginning 
of this century : and was regarded with just 
deference on account of the real geniuses who 
frequented it. But we can now boast men 
of superior abilities ; men, who without any 
one acquired excellence, by the mere dint of a 
happy assurance, can exact the same tribute of 
veneration, and receive it as due to the illustrious 
characters, the scribblers, players, fiddlers, gam- 
blers, that make so large a part of the company 
at the Bedford. 

I shall now take leave of Covent- Garden, and 
desire the reader's company to White's. Here 
(as Vanbrugh saj's of Locket's) " he may have a 
dish no bigger than a saucer, that shall cost him 
fifty shillings." The great people who frequent 
this place, do not interrupt their politer amuse- 
ments, like the wretches at Garraway's, with 
business, any farther than to go down to West- 
minster one sessions to vote for a bill, and the 
next to repeal it. Nor do they trouble themselves 
with literary debates, as at the Bedford. Learn- 
ing is beneath the notice of a man of quality. 
They employ themselves more fashionably at 
whist for the trifle of a thousand pounds the 
rubber, or by making bets on the lie of the day. 
From this very genteel place the reader must 
not be surprised, if I should convey him to a 
cellar, or a common porter-house. For, as it is 
my province to delineate and remark on mankind 
in general, whoever becomes my disciple must 
not refuse to follow me from the Star and 
Garter to the Goose and Gridiron, and be con- 
tent to climb after me up to an Author's gaiTet, 
or give me leave to introduce him to a route. 



No. 2.j 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



S 



III my present cursory view of the Town I 
have, indeed, confined myself principally to cof- 
fee-houses ; though I constantly visit all places, 
that afford any matter for speculation. I am 
a Scotchman at Forrest's, a Frenchman at 

Slaughter's, and at the Cocoa- Tree I am an 

Englishman. At the Rohin Hood I am a 
politician, a logician, a geometrician, a physician, 
a metaphysician, a casuist, a moralist, a theolo- 
gist, a mythologist, or any thing — but an atheist. 
Wherever the World is, I am. You will therefore 
hear of me sometimes at the theatres, sometimes 
perhaps at the opera : nor shall I think the 
exhibitions of Sadler's Wells, or the Little 
Theatre in the Haymai'ket beneath my notice ; 
but may one day or the other give a dissertation 
upon tumbling, or, (if they should again become 
popular) a critique on dogs and monkeys. 

Though the Town is the walk I shall gene- 
rally appear in, let it not be imagined, that vice 
and folly will shoot up unnoticed in the country. 
My cousin Village has undertaken that province, 
and will send me the freshest advices of every 
fault or foible that takes root there. But as it 
is my chief ambition to please and instruct the 
ladies, I shall embrace every opportunity of de- 
voting my labours to their service : and I may 
with justice congratulate myself upon the hap- 
piness of living in an age, when the female part 
of the world are so studious to find employment 
for a Censor. 

The character of Mr. Town is, I flatter my- 
self, too well known to need an explanation. 
How far, and in what sense, I propose to be a 
Connoisseur, the reader will gather fi'om my 
general motto : 



-Non de vUlis doniibusve alienis. 



Nee male necne Lepos saltet ; sed quod magis ad rws 
Pertinet, et nescire malum est, agitamus. Hon. 

Who better knows to build, and who to dance, 
Or this from Italy, or that from France, 
Our Connoisseur will ne'er pretend to scan, 
But point the follies of mankind to man. 
Th' important knowledge of ourselves explain. 
Which not to know all knowledge is but vain. 

As Critic and Censor General, I shall take 
the liberty to animadvert on everything that ap- 
pears to me vicious or ridiculous : always endea- 
vouring " to hold as it were the mirror up to 
Nature^ to show Virtue her own feature, Scorn 
her own image, and the very age and body of the 
Time his form and pressure." 



No. 2.] Thursdat, Feb. 7, 1754. 



•Commissa quod auctio vendii 



Stantibus, cenophorum, tripodes, armaria, cistas. Juv. 

Maim'd statues, rusty medals, marbles old, 
By Sloane collected, or by Langford sold. 

I HAVE already received letters from several Vir- 



tuosi, expressing their astonishment and concern 
at my disappointing the warm hopes they had 
conceived of my undertaking from the title of 
my paper. They tell me, that by deserting the 
paths of Virtu, 1 at once neglect the public inte- 
rest and my own ; that by supporting the char- 
acter of Connoisseur in its usual sense, I mighfc 
have obtained very considerable salaries from 
the principal auction-rpoms, toy-shops, and re- 
positories, and might besides very plausibly have 
recommended myself as the properest person in 
the world, to be keeper of Sir Hans Sloane's 
Museum. 

I cannot be insensible of the importance of 
this capital business of taste, and how much 
reputation as well as profit would accrue to my 
labours by confining them to the minutest re- 
searches into natui'e and art, and poring over 
the rust of antiquity. I very well know that 
the discovery of a new zoophyte, or species of 
the polype, would be as valuable as that of the 
longitude. The cabinets of the curious would 
furnish out matter for my essays, more instruct- 
ing than all the learned lumber of a Vatican. 
Of wliat consequence would it be, to point out 
the distinctions of originals from copies so pre- 
cisely, that the paltry scratchings of a modern 
may never hereafter be palmed on a Connoisseur 
for the labours of a Rembrandt ! I should com- 
mand applause from the adorers of antiquity, 
v.ere I to demonstrate, that merit never existed 
but in the schools of the old painters, never flou- 
rished but in the warm climate of Italy : and 
how should I rise in the esteem of my coun- 
trjTiien, by chastising the arrogance of an Eng- 
lishman in presuming to determine the analysis 
of beauty! 

At other times I might take occasion to show 
my sagacity in conjectures on rusty coins and 
illegible marbles. What profound erudition is 
contained in a half-obliterated antique piece of 
copper! TRAJ. IMP. P. VII. COSS, MAX. 
***TREB. V. P. P. S. C. ; and how mcr- 
betlloiis, most courteous anti rgsijte teovtijgc 
reatrcv, would the barbarous inscription of some 
ancient monument appear to thee, and how 
plcasaitt to tljene eguc bgtfjcall, thus pre- 
served in its obsolete spelling and original ilacfe 
c!)avactcv ! To this branch of tastej I am more 
particularly pressed : a correspondent desires to 
know, whether I was of the party that lately 
took a survey of Palmyra in the Desert ; ano- 
ther, if I have traversed the Holy Land, or visi- 
ted Mount Calvary. I shall not speak too 
proudly of my travels : but as my predecessor 
the Spectator has recommended himself by hav- 
ing made a trip to Grand Cairo to take measure 
of a pyramid, I assure my reader that I have 
climbed Mount Vesuvio in the midst of its erup- 
tions, and dug some time under ground in the 
ruins of Herculaneum. 

I shall al ways be solicitous to procure the es- 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 2. 



teem of so respectable a body as the Connois- 
seurs : since I cannot but be sensible, could I 
any way merit it by my labours, how much 
more important the name of Mr. Town would 
appear, dignified with the addition of F. R. S. 
or Member of the Society of Antiquarians. I 
therefore take this early opportunity of obliging 
the curious with a letter from a very eminent 
personage, who, as well as myself, is lately be- 
come a Connoisseur, and is known to have gone 
abroad for no other purpose than to buy pictures. 



TO MR. . 

Dear Sir, 

The hurry in which I left England must have 
convinced you how much I was in earnest, when 
I talked of making a valuable collection of pic- 
tui*es. By my frequent attendance on sales, I 
already know almost as much of painting, as I do 
of the funds: and can talk as learnedly of light 
and shade, figure, proportion, drapery, &c. as of 
the rise and fall of stocks. I have, however, 
been very much embarrassed in getting together 
a collection, suitable to the religion I profess. 
The famous painters were most of them such 
bigots to their own way of thinking, that they 
have scarce left any thing behind them but 
Holy Families, Dead Christs, and Madonasj^ 
subjects which, to me and my tribe are odious 
and abominable. A picture, since it has the 
property of being the language of all mankind, 
should never be particular in its subject; but 
we should paint, as the English are taught to 
pray, " for all Jews, Turks, Infidels, and Here- 
tics." 

When I have made the tour of Italy, I wiU 
send you a complete list of all my purchases : 
in the mean time, the following short specimen 
will enable you to judge of my precautions, in 
selecting pieces suitable to my character, and 
not offensive to my principles. 

The first that I bought was " the Elevation 
of the Golden Calf." This I shall set up in the 
Royal Exchange, as a typical representation of 
myself, to be worshipped by all brokers, insurers, 
scriveners, and the whole fraternity of stock- 
jobbers. 

The second is "The Triumph of Gideon." 
This I intended, if a late project in favour of 
our brethren had not miscarried, should have 
been hung ijp in St. Stephen's Chapel, as a 
memorial of our victory over the Uncircumcised. 

The third and fourth are " Peter denying his 
Master," and " Judas betraying him for thirty 
pieces of silver ;" both which I design as presents 

to our two worthy friends, the B s of , 

and . 

The next which I shall mention to you, 

deserves particular notice ; and this is " the 

Prophet of Nazareth himself, conjuring the 

Devil into a herd of swine." From this piece, 

ihen 1 retui-n to England, I intend to have a 



print engraved ; being very proper to be had in 
all Jewish families, as a necessary preservative 
against pork and Christianity. 

I shall not tire you with a particular detail of 
some other lesser pieces ; such as — the Deluge, 
in water-colours — the New Jerusalem, in per- 
spective — Some Ruins of the Temple— a Pub- 
lican at the Receipt of Custom — and a Samson 
in miniature. 

Besides these, I have employed an ingenious 
artist here to execute a design of my own. It 
is a picture of Fortune, not standing (as in the 
common style) upon a kind of cart-wheel, but 
on the two wheels of the lottery, with a repre- 
sentation of a net cast over the lesser engros- 
sers of tickets, while a chief manager is breaking 
his way through the meslies. 

I must not forget to tell you, that I have 
picked up an infamous portrait, by an English 
hand, called Shylock ; with the following in- 
scription under it, taken, I suppose, from the 
London Evening Post, or that impudent fool 
the Gazetteer: "they have disgraced me and 
hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, 
mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted 
my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine 
enemies ; — and what's the reason? I am a Jew." 

As soon as the parliament is dissolved, you 
may expect to see me in England ; till when, 

I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. 

******* ****** 

I shall here subjoin a letter of a very different 
stamp ; which points out to me another walk 
as a Connoisseur, not less extensive, perhaps, 
and more agreeable to the modern taste, than 
that of Virtu. 



TO MR, TOWN. 



Sir, 



I suppose Connoisseur is only another word 
iV'' a knowing one. So write me a few papers 
in defence of cards, dice, races, and gaming in 
general ; and I will admit you upon the square, 
introduce you at White's, set you upon the turf 
the next meeting at Newmarket, and make 
your fortune at once. If you are the man I 
take you for, you will be wise, and do this 
directly ; and then the odds are for you. If 
not, I'll hold you a hundred pounds to a 
China orange, that your paper is neglected as 
low and vulgar, and yourself condemned as an 
unfashionable blockhead. 

Yours, as you behave, 

T. Will. Hazard. 



No. 3.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



No. 3.] Thursdat, Feb. 14, 1754-. 



Suave mart magna, turbaniibus cequora veniis, 

E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem. Lucret. 

Wlien raging winds the ruffled deep deform. 
We look at distance, and enjoy the storm ; 
Toss'd on the waves with pleasure others see. 
Nor heed their dangers, while ourselves are free. 

We writers of essays, or (as they are termed) 
periodical papers, justly claim to ourselves a 
place among the modern improvers of literature. 
Neither Bently nor Burman, nor any other 
equally sagacious commentator, has heen able to 
discover the least traces of any similar produc- 
tions among the ancients : except we can sup- 
pose, that the history of Thucydides was re- 
tailed weekly in sixpenny numbers ; that Se- 
neca dealt out his morality evei'y Saturday ; or 
that Tully wi'ote speeches and philosophical dis- 
quisitions, whilst Virgil and Horace clubbed 
together to furnish the poetry for a Roman ma- 
gazine. 

There is a word, indeed, hy which we are 
fond of distinguishing our works, and for which 
we must confess ourselves indebted to the Latin. 
Myself, and every petty journalist, aflFect to dig- 
nify our hasty performances by styling them Lu- 
cubrations ; by which we mean, if we mean any 
thing, that as the day is too short for our labours, 
we are obliged to call in the assistance of the night : 
not to mention the modest insinuation, that our 
compositions are so correct, that (like the oi"a- 
tions of Demosthenes) they may be said to smell 
of the lamp. We would be understood to follow 
the directions of the Roman Satirist, " to grow 
pale by the midnight candle ;" though, perhaps, 
as our own Satirist expresses it, we may be 
thought 

Sleepless ourselves, to give our readers sleep. 

But, as a relief from the fatigue of so many 
restless hours, we have frequently gone to sleep 
for the benefit of the public : and surely we, 
whose labours are confined to a sheet and a half, 
may be indulged in taking a nap now and then, 
as well as those engaged in longer works ; who 
(according to Horace) are to be excused, if a 
little drowsiness sometimes creeps in upon them. 

After this preface, the reader will not be sur- 
prised, if I take the liberty to relate a dream of 
my own. It is usual on these occasions to be 
lulled to sleep by some book: and most of my 
brethren pay that compliment to Virgil or Shak- 
speare : but as I could never discover any opiate 
qualities in those authors, I chose rather to doze 
over some modern performance. 1 must beg to 
be excused from mentioning particulars, as I 
would not provoke the resentment of my con- 
temporaries : nobody will imagine, that I dipped 



into any of our modera novels, or took up any 
of our late tragedies. Let it siaffice, that I pre- 
sently fell fast asleep. 

I found myself transported in an instant to 
the shore of an immense sea, covered with in- 
nxmaerable vessels ; and though many of them 
suddenly disappeared every minute, I saw others 
continually launching forth, and piu'suing the 
same course. The seers of visions, and dreamers 
of dreams, have their organs of sight so consider- 
ably improved, that they can take in any object, 
however distant or minute. It is not therefore 
to be wondered at, that I could discern every 
thing distinctly, though the waters before me 
were of the deepest black. 

While I stood contemplating this amazing 
scene, one of those good-natured genii, who 
never fail making their appearance to extricate 
dreamers from their difficulties, rose from the 
sable stream, and planted himself at my elbow. 
His complexion was of the darkest hue, not xax- 
like that of the Daemons of a printing-house j 
his jetty beard shone like the bristles of a black- 
ing-brush : on his head he wore a turban of im- 
perial paper : and 

There hung a calf-skin on his reverend limbs, 
which was gilt on the back, and faced with 
robings of Morocco, lettered (like a rubric-post) 
w^th the names of the most eminent authors. 
In his left hand he bore a printed scroll, which 
from the marginal connections I imagined to be 
a proof-sheet J and in his right he waved the 
quill of a goose. 

He immediately accosted me. " Town," 

said he, " 1 am the genius, who is destined to 
conduct you through these turbulent waves. 
The sea that you now behold is the Ocean of 
Ink. Those towers, at a great distance, whose 
bases are founded upon rocks, and whose tops 
seem lost in the clouds, are situated in the Isle 
of Fame. Contiguous to these, you may dis- 
cern by the glittering of its golden sands, is the 
Coast of Gain, which leads to a fertile and rich 
country. All the vessels which are yonder sail- 
ing with a fair wind on the main sea, are mak- 
ing towards one or other of these : but you will 
observe, that on their first setting out they were 
irresistibly drawn into the eddies of Criticism, 
where they were obliged to encounter the most 
dreadful tempests and hurricanes. In these dan- 
gerous straits, you see with what violence every 
bark is tossed up and down ; some go to the 
bottom at once; others, after a faint struggle, 
are beat to pieces ; many are much damaged ; 
while a few, by sound planks and tight rigging, 
are enabled to weather the storm." 

At this sight I started back with horror : and 
the remembrance still dwells so strong upon my 
fancy, that I even now imagine the torrent of 
criticism bursting in upon me, and ready to 
overwhelm me in an instant. 



6 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 4. 



« Cast a look," resumed my instructor, " on 
that vast lake divided into two parts, which 
lead to yonder magnificent structures, erected by 
the Tragic and Comic Muse. There you may 
observe many trying to force a passage without 
chart or compass. Some have been overset by 
crowding too much sail, and others have foun- 
dered by carrying too much ballast. An * Arca- 
dian vessel (the master an Irishman) was, 
through contrary squalls, scarce able to live nine 
days : but you see that light Italian gondola fG/i 
Amanti Gelosi, skims along pleasantly before the 
wind, and outstrips the painted frigates of our 
country, :j:Didone and Artaserse. Observe that 
triumphant squadron, to whose flag all the 
others pay homage. Most of them are ships of 
the first rate, and were fitted out many years 
ago. Though somewhat irregular in their make, 
and but little conformable to the exact rules of 
art, they will ever continue the pride and glory 
of these seas : for as it is remarked by the pre- 
sent Laureat, in his prologue to Papal Tyi-anny, 

" Shakspeare, whose art no play-wright can excel, 
Has launch 'd us fleets of plays, and built them well, " 

The Genius then bade me turn my eye, where 
the water seemed to foam with perpetual agita- 
tion. " That," said he, " is the strong current 
of Politics, often fatal to those who venture on 
it." I could not but takenotice of a poor wretch 
on the opposite shore, fastened by the ears to 
a terrible machine. This, the Genius informed 
me, was the memorable Deibe, set up there as a 
land- mark, to prevent future mariners from 
splitting on the same rock. 

To this turbulent prospect succeeded objects 
of a more placid nature. In a little creek, wind- 
ing through flowery meads and shady groves, 1 
descried several gilded yachts and pleasure boats, 
all of them keeping due time with their silver 
oars, and gliding along the smooth, even, calm, 
regularly flowing rivulets of Rhyme. Shep- 
herds and shepherdesses playing on the banks ; 
the sails were gently swelled with the soft 
breezes of amorous sighs ; and little Loves sport- 
ed in the silken cordage. 

My attention was now called ofT from these 
pacific scenes to an obstinate engagement be- 
tween several ships, distinguished from all 
others by bearing the Holy Cross for their col- 
ours. These the Genius told me were em- 
ployed in the Holy War of Religious Contro- 



* Philoclea, a tragedy : founded on Sir Philip Sydney's 
Arc2.dia. 

t An admired Burletta. 
X Operas. 



versy ; and he pointed out to me a few Corsairs 
in the service of the Infidels, sometimes aiding 
one party, sometimes siding with the other, 
as might best contribute to the geueral confu- 
sion. 

1 observed in diflferent paitsof the Ocean seve- 
ral galleys which were rowed by slaves. " Those," 
said the Genius, " are fitted out by very oppres- 
sive owners, and are all of them bound to the 
Coast of Gain. The miserable wretches, whom 
you see chained to the oars, are obliged to tug 
without the least respite ; and though the voyage 
should turn out successful, they have little or no 
share in the profits. Some few you may observe, 
who rather choose to make a venture on their 
own bottoms. These work as hard as the gal- 
ley-slaves, and are frequently cast away ; but 
though they are never so often wrecked, neces- 
sity still constrains them to put out to sea 
again," 



-"ReficU rates 



HOH. 



Quassas, indocilis pauperiem pati." 

Still must the wretch his shatter'd bark refit. 
For who to starve can patiently submit ? 

It were needless to enumerate many other 
particulars that engaged my notice. Among 
the rest was a large fleet of Annotators, Dutch- 
built, which sailed very heavy, Avere often 
a-ground, and continually ran foul on each other. 
The whole ocean, I also found, was infested by 
pirates, who ransacked every rich vessel that 
came in their way. Most of these were endea- 
vouring to make the Coast of Gain, by hanging 
out false colours, or by forging their passports, 
and pretending to be freighted out by the most 
reputable traders. 

My eyes were at last fixed, I know not how, 
on a spacious channel running through the midst 
of a great city. I felt such a secret impulse at 
this sight, that I could not help inquiring parti- 
cularly about it. " The discovery of that pas- 
sage," said the Genius, " was first made by one 
Bickerstaff^, in the good ship called The Tatler, 
and who afterwards embarked in The Spectator 
and Guardian. These have been followed since 
by a number of little sloops, skiff's, hoys, and 
cock-boats, which have been most of them 
wrecked in the attempt. Thither also must 
your course be directed." — At this instant the 
Genius suddenly snatched me up in his arms, 
and plunged me headlong into the inky flood. 
While 1 lay gasping and struggling beneath the 
waves, methought I heard a familiar voice call- 
ing me by my name, which awaking me, I 
with pleasure recollected the features of the 
Genius in those of my publisher, who was stand- 
ing by my bed-side, and had called upon me for 
copy. 



No. 4.] T H E C O N N O I S S E U R. 

No. 4.] Thursday, Fkb. 21, 1754. 



Conjugium vocat, hoc prcetexit nomine culpam. Virg. 

Where matrimony veils th' incestuous life, 
ftjid whore is shelter'd in the name of wife. 

/t is with the utnaost concern I have heard my- 
self within this week past accused at several tea- 
tables, of not being a man of my word. The 
female part of my readers exclaim against me 
for not having as yet paid my particular addresses 
to the fair. " Who is this Mr. Town ?" says 
one: " Where can the creature live? He has 
said nothing yet of the dear Burletta girl." An- 
other wonders that I have not recommended to 
the ladies Mr. Hoyle's New Calculation of 
Chances; for understanding which nothing more 
is required, we are told, than the first principles 
of arithmetic ; that is, to know how to tell the 
pips, and set up one's game. But I find the 
whole sex in general have expected from me 
some shrewd remarks upon the Marriage Bill. 
To ohlige them in some measure, I shall at pre- 
sent recommend to their notice the following ad- 
vertisement, which has been sent me, with a re- 
q'lest to make it public. 

To all whom it may concern. 
THE REVEREND MR. KEITH, 

( Who has had the honour to perform before several of the 
Nobility, Gentry, and others,) 

GIVES THIS PUBLIC NOTICE, 

Tliat he shall continue at his Chapel in May- 
Fair no longer than the present month. He 
will then set out on his progress through the 
principal market-towns, where he will exhibit 
publicly, w^ithout loss of time, any hour of the 
day or night. He will perform to no less than 
two persons, and will wait on any Gentleman 
and Lady privately at their own houses. 

*^* We have no connection with the Fleet 
Parsons, or other Pretenders. Beware of coun- 
terfeits. Ego sum solus. 

I may perhaps take a future opportunity of 
enlarging on this very important subject, the 
Marriage Bill; but shall at present oblige the 
ladies by celebrating an order of females lately 
sprung up among them, usually distinguished 
by the denomination of Demi- Reps; — a word 
not to be found in any of our dictionaries. 

This order, which seems daily increasing upon 
us, was first instituted by some ladies eminent 
for their public spirit, with a view of raising 
their half of the species to a level with the other 
in the unbounded license of their enjoyments. 
By this artifice the most open violation of mo- 
desty takes the name of innocent freedom and 
gayety ; and as long as the last failing remains 
a secret, the lady's honour is spotless and un- 



tainted. In a word, a Demi-Rep is a lady, whom 
every body thinks, what nobody chooses to call 
her. 

It is absolutely necessary, that every lady of 
this order should be married. Custom has given 
a certain charm to wedlock which changes the 
colour of our actions, and renders that behaviour 
not improper, which in a state of celibacy would 
be accounted indecent and scandalous. As to the 
promises made in marriage " to love, honour, and 
obey," custom has made them also merely cere- 
monial, and in fact as little binding as the wed- 
ding-ring, which may be put on or pulled off at 
pleasure. 

Religious and political writers have both for 
different reasons endeavoured to encourage fre- 
quent marriages : but this order, if it maintains 
its ground, will more certainly promote them. 
How inviting must such a state appear to a wo- 
man of spirit ! An English wife, with all the 
indiscretions of a girl, may assume more than 
the privileges of a woman; may trifle publicly 
with the beaux and smarts, introduce them to 
her toilette, and fix it as a certain rule in all her 
conversation and behaviour, that when once 
marriage has (in Lucy's phrase) " made an honest 
woman of her," she is entitled to all the license 
of a courtesan. 

I have lately seen, with a good deal of com- 
passion, a few forward maiden ladies investing 
themselves with the dignities, and encroaching 
on the privileges of this order. It may not be 
improper to caution them to recede in time. As 
their claim to these liberties is unwarranted by 
custom, they will not retain that ambiguous re- 
putation enjoyed by the Demi-Reps, whose 
whole system of conduct is founded on the basis 
of matrimony. Every lady, therefore, inclined 
to indulge herself in all those little innocent free- 
doms, should confine herself within the pale of 
matrimony, to elude censure ; as insolvent debt- 
ors avoid a jail by Lodging within the verge of 
the court. 

A Demi-Rep then must necessarily be mar- 
X'ied : nor is it easy for a lady to maintain so 
critical a character, unless she is a woman of 
fashion. Titles and estates bear down all weak 
censures, and silence scandal and detraction. 
That good breeding too, so inviolably preserved 
among persons of condition, is of infinite service. 
This produces that delightful insipidity so re- 
markable in persons of quality, -ivhose conversa- 
tion flows with an even tenor, undisturbed by 
sentiment, and unrufiled by passion : insomuch 
that husbands and wives, brothers, sisters, 
cousins, and in short the whole circle of kin- 
dred and acquaintance, can entertain the most 
thorough contempt and even hatred for pach 
other, without transgressing the minutest article 
of good breeding and civility. But those fe- 
males, who want the advantages of birth and 
fortune, must be content to wrap themselves up 



8 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 5. 



in their integrity ; for the lower sort are so no- 
toi'iously deficient in the requisities of politeness, 
that they would not fail to throw out the most 
cruel and bitter invectives against the pretty de- 
linquents. 

The great world will, I doubt not, return me 
thanks for thus keeping the canaille at a distance, 
and securing to them a quiet possession of their 
enjojTnents. And here I cannot but observe, 
how respectable an order the Demi- Reps com- 
pose, of which the lovely sisterhood must all be 
married, and almost all Right Honourable. 

For this order, among many other establish- 
ments of modern life, we are indebted to the 
French. Such flippant gayety is more agi'ce- 
able to the genius of that nation. There is a 
native bashfulness inherent in my country-wo- 
men, which it is not easy to surmount ; but our 
modem fine ladies, who take as much pains to 
polish their minds as to adorn their persons, 
have got over this obstacle with incredible faci- 
lity. They have so skilfully grafted the French 
genius for intrigue upon British Beauty and 
liberty, that their conduct appears perfectly 
original : though we must do the French the 
justice to allow, that when a lady of this airy 
disposition visits Paris, she returns most won- 
derfully improved. Upon the whole, France 
appears the properest school to instruct the ladies 
in the theory of their conduct : but England, 
and more especially London, the most commo- 
dious place to put it in practice. In this town, 
indeed, a lady studious of improvement, may in 
a very short time become a considerable pro- 
ficient, by frequenting the several academies 
kept constantly open for her profit and instruc- 
tion. The card tables and masquerades in par- 
ticular have trained up some ladies to a surpris- 
ing eminence, without the least assistance from 
a foreign education. 

It is observed, that the difference between the 
several species in the scale of being is but just 
sufficient to preserve their distinction; the high- 
est of one order approaching so near to the low- 
est of the other, that the gradation is hard to be 
determined ; as the colours of the rainbow, 
through an infinite variety of shades, die away 
into each other imperceptibly. The Demi- Reps 
hold this intermediate station, in the characters 
of females, between the modest women and the 
women of pleasure ; to both which they are in 
some measure connected, as they stand upon the 
utmost verge of reputation, and totter on the 
brink of infamy. It were therefore to be wished^ 
that these ladies wore some symbol of their 
order, or were distinguished by some particular 
mode of dress. The Romans assigned different 
habits to persons of different .iges and stations ; 
and I hope, that when the bustle of the ensuing 
election is over, the new parliament will take 
this matter into consideration, and oblige the 
several classes ot females to distinguish them- 



selves by some external marks and badges of 
I their principles. 

Till some act of this nature shcdl take place, I 
shall propose a method by which every lady may 
i exactly learn in what class she may be reckoned. 
j The world must know then, that my very good 
: friend Mr. Ayscough has at length, with infinit? 
I pains and study, constructed a thermometer ; 
upon which he has delineated, after the manner 
' that the degrees of heat and cold are marked on 
the common sort, the whole scale of female char- 
I acters, from the most inviolable modesty to the 
most abandoned impudence. It is of a commo- 
dious size to wear at a watch : the liquor within 
the tube is a chemical mixture, which being 
acted on by the circulation of the blood and ani- 
i mal spirits, will rise and f^ll according to the 
i desii'es and affections of the wearer. He will 
very shortly publish a large assortment of them, 
: to be sold at his shop on Ludgate-hill : and I 
flatter myself, there are many women in Eng- 
j land, who would be glad to purchase such an 
effectual regulator of their passions. Every lady, 
therefore, may avail herself of the instructions 
of this pocket monitor : a monitor, who would 
give her the most profitable lessons, without the 
I usual impertinence of advice. It will be of equal 
' efficacy, if worn by the men. But I expect my 
j friend will have but little of their custom ; for as 
! the mere reputation of chastity is the utmost aim 
of a fine lady, to preserve even that, in a fine 
gentleman, is accounted mean and unmanly. 

O. 



No. 6.] Thursday, Feb. 28, 1754. 



"iKYt'^OCS \\ctwu KoifMS ix^t^vos ftoXiU SOPHOCL. 

A plague has seized us, and the tainted city 
Is one wide pest-house teeming with contagion. 

TO MR, TOWN. 

Sir, Batsoii's Coffee-House, Feb. 26, 1754. 

I MUST beg leave to trouble you on a most serious 
and melancholy subject, a subject, which I fear 
will be attended with the most dreadful conse- 
quences to the whole nation. Notwithstanding 
the last mail brought the college positive assur- 
ances from the French King's physicians, tha' 
the late plague at Rouen was entirely ceased, I 
have the strongest reasons to apprehend, that the 
contagion is already spread to this city. My 
own practice daily furnishes me with lament- 
able instances, that manifestly indicate a pesti- 
lential disorder in the blood and humours. 

I was first induced to suspect, that some epide- 
mical distemper was taking root among us, from 
my being called in to a noble patient, who (as the 



No. 5." 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



public prints have informed you) has lately been 
afflicted with a violent boil on his back. From 
this patient, thei'e have issued continually great 
quantities of corruption of a yellow hue. His 
complaint seems to be in some sort constitu- 
tional, as it commonly breaks out with extraor- 
dinary virulence every seven years ; and as this 
is the crisis, we cannot pronounce our noble 
patient out of danger, till he has got over the 
ensuing spring. It is moreover to be feared, 
that the contagion has likewise reached Ireland ; 
where we hear that the best physicians are 
using the most forcing medicines, and are of 
opinion that nothing .can relieve the unhappy 
people, till they have voided a stone. A great 
man there labours also under the above-mention- 
ed complaint of having a violent Boyle on his 
back. * 

1 shall now proceed to give you the history of 
some other cases, which have fallen under my 
notice, and are to me an indisputable proof, that 
the plague has got footing among us. Its ma- 
lignancy shows itself particularly about the 
court ; and we are assured, that some parts of 
the country are also tainted with it. I have 
had the honour to attend several members of 
parliament, whose cases are very desperate. 
Some I found in a declining way, given over by 
all their friends ; others are so weak, that they 
cannot stand alone ; and many are so restless, 
that they are continually turning from side to 
side. As [ found they had great need of sup- 
port, I have advised them to drink plentifully 
of strong liquors, and guard against the ill con- 
sequences of a return. 

I visited the other day a young gentleman, 
who has lately been promoted to a command in 
the squadron designed for the East Indies. I 
found him in a most languishing condition ; his 
spirits were quite depressed ; he had a violent 
palpitation of the heart ; and the whole nervous 
system was relaxed. I would have prescribed 
the well known diet-drink brought into practice 
by the late Bishop of Cloyne ; but he told me, 
every thing went against his stomach that sa- 
voured of tar. However, I at length prevailed 
on him to submit to a long course of sea water. 
I have observed the same prognostics in some of 
our land officers ; to whom I have recommend- 
ed the frequent use of exercise, together with a 
course of steel, and a powder composed of nitre 
and sulphur. 

A friend of mine, one of the common-council 
men of this city, is infected to a strong degree 
with the present pestilence. His chief com- 
plaint is a canine appetite; and his wife assures 
me, she has often felt the wolf in his belly. The 
seat of this distemper is originally in the palate. 



* Alluding to some disputes in Ireland. 



and discovers itself by a watering of the mouth 
from the salival glands, and a grinding of the 
teeth as in the action of mastication. This dis- 
order being very common in the city, and likely 
to spread among the livery, I have directed him 
to perform quarantine for forty days, by abstain- 
ing from flesh during the present Lent. 

I know another, a very worthy alderman, 
who now lies in a most deplorable condition. 
He is swelled to a most enormous size; his 
whole face, and particularly his nose, is crusted 
over with fiery pustules of the confluent kind. 
He is afflicted with au insatiable thirst and is 
very subject to falling-fits. I was sent for last 
night, when one of these fits had just seized 
him. He lay to all appearance dead on the 
floor, wallowing in the midst of a fetid mass, 
partly solid, partly fluid, which had issued from 
his mouth and nostrils with repeated eructations. 
I would immediately have administered to him 
a proper dose of Aq. Font, tepefact. but on offer- 
ing him the draught, he showed the strongest 
symptoms of a confirmed hydrophobia. 

I went out of charity to see a poor tragic au- 
thor, (no reflection upon any of the profession, 
Mr. Town) who has been obliged to keep his 
room all the winter, and is dying by inches of 
an inveterate atrophy. By his extravagant 
ravings, sudden starts, incoherent expressions, 
and passionate exclamations, 1 judged his dis- 
order to be seated in the brain, and therefore 
directed his head to be blistered all over. I 
cured another, a comic author, of a lethargy, by 
making a revulsion of the bad humour, from the 
part affected, with stimulating cathartics. A 
short squabby gentleman of a gross and corpu- 
lent make was seized with a kind of St. Vitus's 
dance, as he was practising Harlequin for the 
masquerade : his whole body was convulsed 
with the most violent writhings and irregular 
twitches ; but I presently removed his complaint 
by applying blisters to the soles of his feet. 

The plague, as I observed before, puts on 
different appeai'ances in different subjects. A 
person of quality, one of the club at White's, was 
seized with the epidemical frenzy raging there, 
which propagates itself by certain black and red 
spots. He had suffered so much loss by con- 
tinual evacuations, that his whole substance was 
wasted ; and when I saw him he was so reduced 
that there were no hopes of a recovery. Another 
nobleman caught the infection at Newmarket, 
which brought upon him such a running that 
he is now in the last stage of a galloping con- 
sumption. A reverend divine, lately, made" a 
dignitary of the church, has unhappily lost his 
memory ; and is so blind withal, that he hardly 
knows any of his old acquaintances ; the mus- 
cles of his face are all contracted into an austere 
frown, his knees are stiff and inflexible, and he 
is unable, poor gentleman ! to bend his body, or 
C 



10 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 6. 



move his hand to his head. I have observed 
others seized at times with a strange kind of 
deafness ; and at certain intervals, I have found 
them so prodigiously bard of hearing, that 
though a tradesman has bawled ever so loudly 
in their eai's, it has had no effect on them. 

By what means this plague has been intro- 
duced among us, cannot easily be ascertained ; 
^whether it was imported in the same band- 
box with the last new head, or was secretly 
conveyed in the plaits of an embroidered suit : 
—But that it came over hither from France, 
plainly appears from the manner in which it 
affects our people of fashion, (especially the 
ladies,) who bear about them the most evident 
marks of the French Disease. This is known 
to affect the whole habit of body, and extends 
its influence from head to foot. But its strong- 
est attacks are levelled at the face : and it has 
such an effect upon the complexion, that it en- 
tirely changes the natural colour of the skin. 
At Paris, the face of every lady you meet is be- 
smeared with unguent, ceruss, and plaster : and 
I have lately remarked, with infinite concern, 
the native charms of my pretty countrywomen 
destroyed by the same cause. In this case I 
have always proposed calling in the assistance 
of a surgeon to pare off this unnatural epidermis 
of scarf-skin, occasioned by the ignorance of em- 
pirics in the immoderate application of altera- 
tives. 

From what I have been able to collect from 
observations on my female patients, I have 
found little variation in the effects of the plague 
on that sex. Most of them complain of a lassi- 
tude, a listlessness, an uneasiness, pains they 
don't know where, vapours, hysterics, want of 
rest, want of spirits, and loss of appetite : con- 
sequently the same regimen may serve for all. 
1 advise them to use a great deal of exercise in 
driving about the town, to dilute properly with 
tea, to perspire freely at public places, and in 
their seasons to go to Bath, Tunbridge, Chelten- 
ham, or Scarborough. 

I was indeed surprised ^vith an extraordinary 
new case the other night, when I was called out 
of bed to attend a maid of honour, who is fre- 
quently afflicted with fits of the mother. Her 
abdomen, I found, upon examination, to be pre- 
ternaturally distended ; the tumour has been 
gradually increasing ; but I would not attempt 
to discuss it, as it was not yet arrived to matu- 
I'ity. I intend soon to remove her into the 
country for a month, in order to deliver her 
from the complaint she labours under. 

I have been induced, Sir, to write to you on this 
occasion, as you are pleased to take this city un- 
der your immediate care. So alarming an evil 
calls upon us all to oppose its progress : for my 
own part nothing shall deter me from a diligent 
discharge of the duty of my profession ; though 
it has already exposed me to the greatest dan- 



gers in the execution of it. An old captain of a 
man of war, who is grievously troubled with 
choler and overflowing of the gall, on my only 
hinting a clyster, swore vehemently that I 
should take one myself, and applying his foot 
directly to my fundament, kicked me down 
stairs. This very morning I escaped almost by 
miracle from the contagion, which raged in the 
most violent degx'ee through a whole family. 
The master and mistress were both of them in a 
very high fever, and quite frantic and delirious: 
their tongues were prodigiously inflamed, with 
the tip very sharp, and perpetual vibrating with- 
out the least intennission. I would have pre- 
scribed some cooling and lenitive medicines ; 
but the husband in the height of his frenzy flung 
my tie-wig into the fire, and his wife sluiced 
me with extravasated urine. As I retired with 
precipitation, I heard the same wild ravings in 
the nui'sery, the kitchen, and every other quar- 
ter, w^hich convinced me that the pestilence had 
seized the whole house. I ran out of dooi's as 
fast as possible, reflecting with Terence, " If 
Health herself would save this family, she 
could not." 



' Ipsa si ciipiat solus 



Servare prorsus non potest hanc famiHam. 

Upon the whole, I may conclude with the 
aphorism of Hippocrates ; " that no people ran 
possibly be afflicted with so many and so terrible 
disorders, unless the plague is among them." 
I am, Sir, youi's, &c. 

W. B. G. 



No. 6.] Thursday, March 7, 1754. 



Quid alat fai-metqxie poctam. 



Hon, 



Practice alone must form the writer's head. 
And every author to the trade be brcil. 

I REMEMBER to havc Seen, in some old Italian 
poet, a fable called " The Education of the 
Muses." Apollo is there said to have taken 
them at their birth under bis immediate care, 
and as they grew up, to have instructed them, 
according to their different capacities, in the 
several branches of playing and singing. Thalia, 
we are told, was of a lively turn, and took de- 
light in the most comic airs ; but was at first 
with difficulty restrained from falling into ridi- 
culous drolleries, and what our author calls ex- 
travaganzas in her manner. Melpomene., who 
was of a serious and grave disposition, indulged 
herself in strains of melancholy ; but when she 
aimed at the most pathetic strokes, was often 
harsh, or run into wild divisions. Clio, and 



No. 6.2 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



11 



the rest of the Nine, had not yet learned to tem- 
per their voices with sweetness and variety ; nor 
could they tell how to regulate the stops of their 
(iiites, or touch the strings of their lyres witli 
judgment and grace. However, by much prac- 
tice, they improved gi'adually under the instruc- 
tions of Apollo, till at last they were able to 
exert all the powers of music : and they now 
form a complete concert, which fills all Pai'nas- 
sus with the most enchanting harmony. 

The moral to be drawn from this little fable 
is naturally applied to those servants of the 
Muses, Authors ; who must necessarily rise, by 
the same slow degrees, from their first lame at- 
tempts in cultivating the arts of ApoUo. The 
best of them, without doubt, went thx'ough many 
more stages of writing, than appears fi'om the 
palpable gradations still remaining in their 
works. But as it is impossible to trace them 
from the first setting out, I shall here present 
the reader with the sum of my own experience, 
and illustrate, in the life of Mr. Town, the pro- 
gress of an author. 

Right or wrong, I have ever been addicted to 
scribbling. I was famous at school for my readi- 
ness at crambo and capping verses : 1 often 
made themes for other boys, and sold my copy 
for a tart or a custard : at nine years old I was 
taken notice of for an English distich ; and after- 
wards immortalized myself by an holiday's task 
in the same language, which my master, who 
was himself a poet, pronounced to be scarce in- 
ferior to his favourite Blackmoi'e. These were 
followed by a multitude of little pieces ; which, 
like other fruits that come before their season, 
had nothing to recommend them but their early 
appearance. 

Filled, however, with great conceptions of my 
genius and importance, I could not but lament, 
that such extraordinary parts should be confined 
within the narrow cii'cle of my relations and ac- 
quaintance. — Therefore, in order to oblige and 
amaze the public, I soon became a very large 
contributor to the monthly magazines. But I 
had the unspeakable mortification to see my fa- 
vours sometimes not inserted, sometimes post- 
poned, often much altered, and you may be sure 
always for the worse. On all these occasions, I 
never failed to condemn the arrogance and folly 
of the compilers of these miscellanies; wonder- 
ing how they could so grossly mistake their own 
interest, and neglect the entertainment of their 
readers. 

In the meantime a maiden aunt, with whom 
I lived, a very pious old lady, turned Methodist, 
and often took me with her to the Tabernacle, 
the Foundery, and many private meetings. This 
made such an impression upon my mind, that I 
devoted myself entirely to sacred subjects, and 
wrote several hymns, which were received with 
infinite applause by all the good women who 
visited my aunt ; and (the servants being also 



Methodists) they were often sung by the whole 
family in the kitchen. I might perhaps in time 
have rivalled Wesley in these divine composi- 
tions, and had even begun an entire new version 
of the Psalms; when my aunt changing her 
religion a second time, became a Moravian. But 
the hymns usually sung by the United Brethren, 
contain sentiments so sublime and so incompre- 
hensible, that notwithstanding my late success 
in that kind of poetry, and the great opinion I 
entertain of my own talents, I dui'st not venture 
on their style and manner. 

As love and poetry mutually produce each 
othei', it is no wonder, that before I was seven- 
teen I had singled out my particular Sacharissa. 
This you may suppose gave birth to innumerable 
songs, elegies, and acrostics. In the space of two 
years I had written more love verses than 
Waller, or any other poet ; when, just as I 
imagined I had rhymed myself into her good 
graces, I had the mortification to find that my 
mistress was married to a cornet of horse, a 
fellow, who I am sure never wrote a line in his 
life. This threw me into such a violent rage 
against the whole sex, that I immediately burnt 
every syllable I had written in her praise, and 
in bitterness of soul translated the sixth satii-e 
of Juvenal. 

Soon after this, the son and heir of Lord 
Townly, to whom I have the honour of being a 
distant relation, was engaged in a treaty of mar- 
riage with a rich heiress. I sat down imme- 
diately with great composure to write an £pi- 
thalamium on this occasion. I trimmed Hy- 
men's torch, and invited the Loves and Graces 
to the wedding ; Concord was prepared to join 
their hands, and Juno to bless them with a 
numerous race of children. After all these 
pains, when every thing was ready for the wed- 
ding, and the last hand- put to the Epithalaraium, 
the match was suddenly broke oif, and my poem 
of course rendered useless. I was more uneasy 
under this disappointment than any of the par- 
ties could possibly be ; till I was informed of 
the sudden marriage of a noble lord with a cele- 
brated beauty. On this popular occasion, pro- 
mising myself universal applause, I immediately 
published my Epithalamium, which like Bays's 
Prologue, was artfully contrived to serve one 
purpose as well as another. 

As my notions had been hitherto confined 
within a narrow sphere of life, my literary pur- 
suits were consequently less important, till I had 
the opportunity of enlarging my ideas by going 
abroad. My travels, of which I have before 
hinted something to the reader, opened to me a 
new and extensive field for observation. I wU 
not presume to boast, that I received any part 
of my education at Geneva, or any of those cele- 
brated foreign universities, in which alone an 
Englishman can be grounded in the principles 
of religion and liberty : but I may say without 



12 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 7. 



vanity, that I gleaned some useful knowledge I 
from every place I visited. My propensity to I 
writing followed me wherever I went : and 
were I to meet with encouragement by a large | 
subscription, I could publish several volumes of 
curious remarks, which I made in my tour. I 
had, indeed, like to have got into some unlucky 
scrapes, by turning author in places, where the 
liberty of the press was never so much as heard 
of. At Paris I narrowly escaped being put 
into the Bastile for a little Chanso-n a boire, 
reflecting on the mistress of the Grand Mo- 
iiarque ; and I was obliged to quit Rome a week 
sooner than I intended, for fixing on Pasquin 
a prayer for the Pope's toe, which was then 
laid up with the gout. 

It was not till my return from abroad, that I 
formally commenced a professed critic, for 
which I now thought myself thoroughly quali- 
fied. I could draw parallels between Marseilles 
and Denoyer, compare the behaviour of the 
French parterre with the English pit ; and 
have lately made a figure by affecting an in- 
difference about the present burlettas, as I took 
care to let every body know that I had often 
seen them in Flanders. My knowledge in the- 
atrical affairs naturally led me to write a great 
number of occasional pamphlets on those topics ; 
such as ' Examens of New plays. Letters to the 
Managers, 8fc.' Not content with this 1 had a 
strong inclination to shine in the drama. I 
often pleased myself with computing — " three 
benefit nights — ^let me see — six hundred pounds 
at least — a hundred more for the copy — besides 
a perpetual freedom of the house." — These were 
temptations not to be resisted. I sat down 
therefore to a tragedy ; but, before I got through 
the first act, despairing to make it sufficiently 
pathetic for the modern taste, I changed my 
scheme, and began a comedy; then again re- 
flecting, that most of our comedies were in 
reality nothing but overgrown farces, contented 
myself with writing, what authors are now 
pleased to call a comedy of two acts. This I 
finished with a great deal of pains, and very 
much to my own satisfaction : but not being 
able to get it on the stage, as one house was 
entirely taken up with pantomimes, and the 
manager of the other had so many farces of his 
own, I generously made a present of it to an 
actor for his benefit;— when to my great sur- 
prise it was damned. 

I have at last resolved to bend all my atten- 
tion, and dedicate all my powers, to the carrying 
on this my present elaborate undertaking. 1 
am sorry to own, that the success has not at 
all answered my expectations : I flattered my- 
self with being universally known, read, and 
admired ; but I find quite the contrary. I 
went into a coffee-house the other day by 
White-chapel Mount, where on asking for the 
Connoisseur, the woman stared at mc, and said 



she did not know what 1 meant. I dined last 
week at a foreign ambassador's ; and not a word 
about me or my works passed at table. I wrote 
to a relation at Caermarthen, desiring to know 
what reputation my paper has in Wales : but 
he tells me, that nothing in the literary way 
comes down there but the King's speech and 
the London Evening Post. I have inquired 
into the sale of my first number, my second, 
my third, my fourth, and the last : yet 1 cannot 
assure my readers, that I have sold three thou- 
sand of any one of them. In short, I give this 
public notice once for all, that if I do not find 
myself taken in all over England, by the time 
I have published two or three hundred papers, 
— let them look to it — let them look to it — I'll 
bid adieu to my ungrateful country, go directly 
to Berlin, and (as Voltaire is discarded) employ 
my pen in the service of that encourager of 
literary merit the King of Prussia. O. 

* ^* As several correspondents, since the first 
publication of this number, have desired to 
know, from what Italian author the Fable at 
the beginning of this paper is borrowed : we 
think it necessary to acquaint them, that the 
fiction is entirely our own. 



No. 7.] Thursday, March 14, 1754. 



PcEnitd hospitti, ckm me spedanie lacerios 

Imponit collo rmticiis ille tuo. 
Oscula cu7n verv coram non dura darcfis. 

Ante oculos jx)sui poctila snmpta t/u'os. Ovid. 

1 loath'd the dinner, while before my face 
The clown still paw'd you with a rude embrace : 
But when ye toy'd and kiss'd without control, 
I turn'd and screen 'd my eyes behind the bowl. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I SHALL make no apology for recommending to 
your notice, as Censor General, a fault that is 
too common among the married people; I mean 
the absurd trick of fondling before company. 
Love is, indeed, a vei'y rai*e ingredient in 
modern wedlock ; nor can the parties enteitain 
too much affection for each other : but an open 
display of it on all occasions renders them ridi- 
culous. 

A few days^ago I was introduced to a young 
couple who were but lately married, and are 
reckoned by all their .icqualntance to be exceed- 
ing happy in each other. I had scarce saluted 
the bride, when the husband caught her eagerly 
in his arms, and almost devoured her with 
kisses. When we were seated, they took care 
to place themselves close to each other ; and 
during our conversation he was constatitly pid- 
dling with her fingers, tapping her cheek, or 



No. 7.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



13 



playing with her hair. At dinner, they were 
mutually employed in pressing each other to 
taste of every dish ; and the fond appellations 
of *' my dear, my love," &c.were constantly ban- 
died across the table. Soon after the cloth was 
removed, the lady made a motion to retire ; but 
the husband prevented the compliments of the 
rest of the company by saying, " We should be 
unhappy without her." As the bottle went 
round, he joined her health to every toast ; and 
could not help now and then rising from his 
chair to press her hand, and manifest the 
warmth of his passion by the ardour of his 
caresses. This precious fooling, though it 
highly entertained them, gave me great disgust : 
therefore, as my company might very well be 
spared, I took my leave as soon as possible. 

Nothing is more common than to see a new 
married couple, setting out with a splendour in 
their equipage, furniture, and manner of living, 
which they have been afterwards obliged to re- 
trench. Thus it happens, when they have 
made themselves remarkable by a show of exces- 
sive love. They begin with great eclat, are 
lavish of their fondness, at first, but their whole 
stock is soon wasted ; and their poverty is the 
more insupportable, as their former profusion 
has made it more conspicuous. I have remark- 
ed the ill consequences of this indiscretion in 
both cases : One couple has at last had separate 
beds, while the other have been carried to the 
opera in hackney chairs. 

Two people who are to pass their whole lives 
together, may surely find time enough for dal- 
liance without playing over their pretty tricks 
in public. How ridiculous would it appear, if 
in a large assembly every one should select his 
mate, and the whole company should fall into 
couples, like the birds on Valentine's day ! And 
it is surely no less absurd, to see a man and his 
wife eternally trifling and toying together. 



Still amorous, and fond, and billing. 
Like Philip and Mary on a shilling. 



HUDIBRAS. 



1 have often been reduced to a kind of awk- 
ward distress on these occasions ; not knowing 
which way to look, or what to say. I consider 
them as playing a game, in which the stander- 
by is not at all interested ; and would therefore 
recommend it to every third person in these cir- 
cumstances to take it as a hint, that the parties 
have a mind to be alone, and leave the room 
without further ceremony. 

A friend of mine happened to be engaged in a 
visit to one of these loving couples. He sat still 
for some time, without interrupting the little 
endearments that passed between them. Find- 
ing them at last quite lost in nods, whispers, 
ogles, and in short, wholly taken up with each 
other, he rang the bell, and desired the servant 
to send in my lady's woman. When she came, 
he led her very gravely to the settee, and began 



to indulge himself in certain freedoms, which 
provoked the damsel to complain loudly of his 
rudeness. The lady &ew into a violent passion, 
and rated him severely for his monstrous behavi- 
our. My fi'iend begged her pardon with great 
politeness, hoped she was not offended, for that 
he thought there had been no harm in amusing 
himself a little while with Mrs. Betty, in the 
same manner as her ladyship and Sir John had 
been diverting themselves these two hours. 

This behaviour, though at all times improper, 
may in some sort be excused, where perhaps the 
match had been huddled up by the parents, and 
the young people are such new acquaintance, 
that they scarce ever saw each other till their 
marriage. A pair of loving turtles may be in- 
dulged in a little amorous billing at their first 
coming together : yet this license should expire 
with the honey-moon, and even in that period 
be used but sparingly. 

But if this conduct is blameable in young 
people, how very absurd is it in those advanced 
in years ! Who can help laughing when he sees 
a worn-out beau and belle, practising at three- 
score the very follies that are ridiculous at six- 
teen ? I could wish that such a pair of anti- 
quated lovers were delineated by the pencil of a 
Hogarth. How humorously would he repre- 
sent two emaciated wrinkled figures, with eyes 
sunk into their heads, lank cheeks, and toothless 
gums, affecting to leer, smile, and languish at 
each other. But this affectation is still more 
remarkable, when a liquorish old fool is contin- 
ually fondling a young wife : though perhaps 
the sight is not so disgusting to a strangei-, who 
may reasonably suppose it to be the overflowings 
of a fathei-'s tenderness for his daughter. 

It sometimes happens, that one of the parties 
perceives the folly of this behaviour. I have 
seen a sensible man quite uneasy at the indiscreet 
marks of kindness shown by his lady. I know a 
clergyman in the country, Avho is often put to 
the blush by the strange familiarities, which his 
wife's love induces her to take with him. As she 
has had but an indifferent education, you would 
often be at a loss to knov/, whether she is very 
kind, or very rude. If he dines abroad, she always 
sees him get on horseback, and before he has got 
twenty yards from the door, halloos after him, 
"be at home in time, my dear soul, do." I have 
known her almost quarrel with him for not but- 
toning his coat in the middle of summer : and 
she once had the good-nature to burn a very 
valuable collection of Greek manuscripts, lest 
the poring over those horrid crooked letters 
should put her dear Jack's eyes out. Thus does 
she torment the poor parson with her violent af- 
fection for him, and according to the common 
phrase, kills him with kindness. 

Before I conclude, I cannot but take notice of 
those luscious love-scenes that have so great a 
share in our modern plays ; which are rendered 



14i 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 8. 



still more fulsome by the offidousness of the 
player, who takes every opportunity of heighten- 
ing the expression by kisses and embraces. In 
a comedy nothing is more relished by the au- 
dience than a loud smack, which echoes through 
the whole house; and in the most passionate 
scenes of a tragedy the hero and the heroine are 
continually flying into each other's arms. For 
my part I am never present at a scene of this 
kind, which produces a conscious simper from 
the boxes, and a hearty chuckle of applause from 
the pit and galleries, .but I am ready to exclaim 
with old Renault — " I like not these buggers." 

I would recommend it to all married people, 
but especially to the ladies, not to be so sweet 
upon their dears before company : but I would not 
be understood to countenance that coldness and 
indifference, which are so fashionable in the 
polite world. Nothing is accounted more un- 
genteel, than for a husband and wife to be seen 
together in public places ; and if they should 
e\ier accidentally meet, they take no more notice 
of each other, than if they were absolute stran- 
gers. The gentleman may lavish as much gal- 
lantry as he pleases on other women, and the 
lady give encouragement to twenty pretty fel- 
lows, without censure : but they would either 
of them blush at being surprised, in showing 
the least marks of a regard for each other. 

I am, Sir, 

T. Your humble Servant, &c. 



, mark on this part of the production of Mr. 
Fitz-Adam. When he gave his paper the title 

I of the World, I suppose he meant to intimate 
his design of describing that part of it, who are 
known to account all other persons nobody, and 
are therefore emphatically called The World. If 
this was to be pictured out in the head-piece, a 
lady at her toilette, a party at whist, or the 
jovial member of the Diletanti tapping the 
World for Champagne, had been the most na- 
tural and obvious hieroglyphics. But when we 
see the porti'ait of a philosopher poring on the 
globe instead of observations on modern life, we 
might more naturally expect a system of geo- 
graphy, or an attempt towards a discovery of the 
longitude. 

The reader will smile, perhaps, at a criticism 
of this kind ; yet, certainly, even here propriety 
should be observed, or at least all absurdities 
avoided. But this matter being usually left to 
the printer or bookseller, it is often attended 
with strange blunders and misapplications. I 
have seen a sermon ushered in with the repre- 
sentation of a shepherd and shepherdess sporting 
on a bank of flowers, with two little Cupids 
smiling over head ; while, perhaps, an epitha- 
lamium, or an ode for a birth-day, has been in- 
troduced with death's heads and cross marrow- 



No. 8.] Thursday, March 21, 1754. 



quanta species cerebrum non hdbet I PHiBBR. 

In outward show so splendid and so vain, 
'Tis but a gilded block without a brain. 

I MUST acknowledge the receipt of many letters 
containing very lavish encomiums on my works. 
Among the rest a correspondent, whom I take 
to be a bookseller, is pleased to compliment me 
on the goodness of my print and paper ; but 
tells me, that he is very sorry not to see some- 
thing expi'cssive of my undertaking in the little 
cut that I carry in front. It is true, indeed, 
that my printer and publisher held several con- 
sultations on this subject ; and I am ashamed 
to confess, that they had once prevailed on me 
to suffer a profile of my facQ to be prefixed to 
each number. But when it was finished, I was 
quite mortified to see what a scurvy figure 
I made in wood : nor could I submit to be hung 
out, like Broughton, at my own door, or let my 
face serve like the canvas before a booth to call 
people into the show. I hope it will not be im- 
puted to envy or malevolence, that 1 here re • 



The inhabitants of Grub-street are generally 
very studious of propriety in this point. Before 
the halfpenny account of a horse-race, we see 
the jockeys whipping, spun'ing, jostling, and 
the horses straining within sight of the post. 
The last dying speech, character, and behaviour 
of the malefactors presents us with a prospect of 
the place of execution ; and the History of the 
London 'Prentice exhibits the figure of a lad 
standing between two lions, and ramming his 
hands down their throats. A due regard has 
been paid to this article, in the several elegies 
from that quarter on the death of Mr. Pelham. 
They are encompassed with dismal black lines, 
and all the sable emblems o*' doath : nor can we 
doubt, but that an author, who takes such care 
to express a decent sorrow on the outside of his 
work, has infused a great deal of the pathetic 
into the piece itself. 

These little embellishments were originally 
designed to please the eye of the reader ; as we 
tempt children to learn their letters by disposing 
the alphabet into pictures. But, in our modern 
compositions, they ai'e not only ornamental but 
useful. An angel or a flower-pot, at the be- 
ginning and end of every chapter or section, en- 
ables the bookseller to spin out a novel, without 
plot or incident, to a great number of volumes : 
and by the help of these decorations, properly 
disposed, I have known a little piece swell into 
a duodecimo, which had scarce matter enough 
for a sixpenny pamphlet. 

In this place I might also take notice of the 
several new iiuprovcmente in the buslaess of 



No. 8.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



15 



typography. Though it is reckoned ungenteel 
to write a good hand, yet every one is proud of 
appearing in a beautiful print : and the produc- 
tions of a man of quality come from the press in 
a very neat letter, though, perhaps, the manu- 
script is hai-dly legible: Indeed, our modern 
writers seem to be more solicitous about out- 
ward elegance, than the intrinsic merit of their 
eom positions : and on this account it is thought 
no mean recommendation of their works, to 
advertise that they are " beautifully printed on 
a fine paper and entire new letter." Nor are 
they only indebted to the press for the beauty of 
the type, but often call in its assistance to explain 
and enforce the sentiment. When an author is 
in doubt whether the reader will be able to com- 
prehend his meaning, or indeed, whether he has 
any meaning at all, he takes care to sprinkle the 
sentence with italics ; but when he would sur- 
prise us with any thing more striking than ordi- 
nary, he distinguishes the emphatical words by 
large staring CAPITALS, which overtop the 
rest of their feUows, and are intended, like the 
grenadiers' caps, to give us an idea of something 
grand and uncommon. These are designed as 
so many hints to let the reader know where he 
is to be particularly affected ; and answer the 
same purpose with the marginal directions in 
plays, which intbrm the actor when he is to 
laugh or cry. This practice is most remarkable 
in pieces of modern wit and humour; and it 
may be observed, that where there is the least of 
these lively qualities, the author is most desir- 
ous of substituting these arts in their room ; 
imagining, that by a judicious distribution of 
these enlivening strokes in different parts of it, 
his work, however dull in itself, will become 
smart and brilliant. 

And here I cannot but take notice, that these 
arts have been employed to a very great advan- 
tage in the service of the theatres. The writer 
of the play bills deals out his capitals in so just 
a proportion, that you may tell the salary of 
each actor by the size of the letter in which his 
name is printed. "When the present manager of 
Drury-lane first came upon the stage, a new set 
of types two inches long were cast on purpose to 
do honour to his extraordinary merit. This 
indeed is so proper, that the severest critics ou 
the drama cannot be offended at this piece of 
theatrical justice. 

There is lately sprung up among us a new 
species of writers, who are most of them per- 
sons of the first rank and fashion. At this period 
the whole house of commons are turned authors : 
and we cannot sufficiently admire the propriety 
of style and sentiment in those elegant addresses, 
by which they humbly offer themselves as candi- 
dates, and beg the favour of your votes and in- 
terest. These gentlemen avail themselves 
greatly of the arts of printing above-mentioned : 
whether they would raise the merits of their 



own cause, or throw out invectives on the op- 
posite party. The courtier sets before your eyes 
in large letters his steady attachment to King 
George, while his opponent displays in the same 
manner his zeal for Liberty and the Constitu- 
tion. This must undoubtedly have a wonderful 
effect on the electors ; and I could almost assure 
any patriot certain success, who should manifest 
his regard for ©111 iSnglantJ by printing his 
addresses in the ©lU iSnglisi^ Cf)aractet. 

But, in the whole republic of letters, there are 
none, perhaps, who are more obliged to the 
printer, than the writers of periodical essays. 
The Spectators, indeed, came into the world 
without any of the advantages we are possessed 
of. They were originally published in a very 
bad print and paper, and were so entirely desti- 
tute of all outward ornaments, that like 
(Terence's virgin) 



Ni vis boni 



In ipsa inesset forma, hcecformam extinguereni, 

" Unless the soul of beauty had breathed through 
the compositions themselves, these disadvantages 
would have suppressed the least appearances 
of it." 

As it requires no genius to supply a defect of 
this nature, our modern essays as much excel the 
Spectators in elegance of form, as perhaps they 
may be thought to fall short of them in every 
other respect. But they have this additional 
advantage, that by the fineness of their paper 
they are rescued from serving many mean and 
ignoble purposes, to which they might other- 
wise be applied. They also form themselves 
more commodiously into volumes, and become 
gcnteeler appendages of the tea-table. The can- 
did reader will undoubtedly impute this extra- 
ordinary care about externals to the modesty of 
us present essayists, who are willing to compen- 
sate for our poverty of genius, by bestowing 
these outward graces and embellishments on our 
works. For my own part, I never reflect on 
the first unadorned publication of the Spectator, 
and at the same time take up one of my own 
papers, set off with every ornament of the press, 
but I am afraid that the critics will apply, what 
a facetious peer is said to have remarked on two 
different ladies ; that " the first is a soul without 
a body, and the last a body without a soul." 

As in this fashionable age there are many of 
Lord Foppington's opinion, " that a book should 
be recommended by its outside to a man of qua- 
lity and breeding," it is incumbent on all authors 
to let their works appear as well dressed £s possi- 
ble, if they expect them to be admitted into polite 
company. Yet we should not lay too much 
stress on the decorations, but rather remember 
Tully's precepts to aU who build, that "the 
owner should be an ornament to the house, and 
not the house to the owner." 



16 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 9. 



No. 9.] Thursday, March 28, 1754. 



— — — SolvUque animis miracula rcrum, 
EripiiUque Jovifulmcn, vincsque tonanti. Ma.ml. 

He freed our minds from dread of things above. 
And snatch 'd the thunder from the hand of Jove. 

The publication of Lord Bolingbroke's posthu- 
mous works has given new life and spirit to 
free-thinking. We seem at present to be en- 
deavouring to unlearn our catechism, with all 
that we have been taught about religion, in or- 
der to model our faith to the fashion of his 
Lordship's system. We have now nothing to 
do, but to throw away our Bibles, turn the 
churches into theatres, and rejoice that an act of 
Parliament, now in force, gives us an opportuni- 
ty of getting rid of [the clergy by transportation. 
I was in hopes that the extraordinary price of 
these volumes would have confined their in- 
fluence to persons of quality. As they are 
placed above extreme indigence and absolute 
want of bread, their loose notions would have 
carried them no farther than cheating at cards, 
or perhaps plundering their country: but if 
■these opinions spread among the vulgar, we 
shall be knocked down at noon-day in our 
streets, and nothing will go forward but rob- 
beries and murders. 

The instances I have lately seen of free-think- 
ing, in the lower part of the world, make me 
fear, they are going to be as fashionable and as 
wicked as their betters. I went the other night 
to the Robin Hood ; where it is usual for 
the advocates against religion to assemble, and 
openly avow their infidelity. One of the ques- 
tions for the night was, " Whether Lord Bol- 
ingbroke had not done greater service to man- 
kind by his writings, than the Apostles or 
Evangelists?" As this society is chiefly compos- 
ed of lawyer's clerks, petty tradesmen, and the 
lowest mechanics, I was at first surprised to 
find such amazing erudition among them. To- 
land, Tindal, Collins, Chubb, and Mandeville, 
they seemed to have got by heart. A slioe- 
makcr harangued his five minutes upon the ex- 
cellence of the tenets maintained by Lord Bol- 
ingbroke ; but I soon found that his reading 
had not been extended beyond the idea of a pa- 
triot King, which he had mistaken for a glori- 
ous system of fi-ee-thinking. I could not help 
smiling at another of the company, who took 
pains to show his disbelief of the Gospel by un- 
sainting the apostles, and calling them by no 
other title than plain Paul or plain Peter. The 
proceedings of this society, have, indeed, almost 
induced me to wish, that (like the Roman Ca- 
tholics) they were not permitted to read the 
Bible, rather than they should read it only to 
abuse it. 

I have frequently heard many wise trades- 
men settling the most important articles of our 



I faith over a pint of beer. A baker took occasion 
from Canning's affair to maintain, in opposition 
to the Scriptures, that man might live by bread 
alone, at least that woman might ; " for else," 
said he, " how could the girl liave been support- 
ed for a whole month by a few hard crusts?" 
In answer to this, a barber surgeon set forth 
the improbability of that story ; and thence in- 
ferred, that it was impossible for our Saviour to 
have fasted forty days in the wilderness. I 
lately heard a midshipman swear that the Bible 
was all a lie ; for he had sailed round the world 
with Lord Anson, and if there had been any 
Red Sea, he must have met with it. I know a 
bricklayer, who, while he'was working by line 
and rule, and carefully laying one brick upon 
another, would argue with a fellow-labourer, 
that the world was made by chance ; and a 
cook, who thought more of his ;trade than his 
Bible, in a dispute concerning the miracles, 
made a pleasant mistake about the nature of the 
first, and gravely asked his antagonist what lie 
thought of the Supper at Cana. 

This affectation of free-thinking, among the 
lower class of people, is at present happily con- 
fined to the men. On Sundays, while the hus- 
bands are toping at the ale-house, the good 
women their wives think it their duty to go to 
church, say their prayers, bring home the text, 
and hear the children their catechism. But our 
polite ladies are, I fear, in their lives and con- 
versations, little better than free-thinkers. Go- 
ing to church, since it is now no longer the 
fashion to carry on intrigues there, is almost 
wholly laid aside ; and I verily believe, that no- 
thing but another earthquake can ever fill the 
churches with people of quality. The fair sex 
in general are too thoughtless to coucern them- 
selves in deep inquiries into matters of religion. 
It is sufficient, that they are taught to believe 
themselves angels : it would therefore be an ill 
compliment, while we talk of the heaven they 
bestow, to persuade them, into the Mahometan 
notion, that they have no souls : though perhaps 
our fine gentlemen may imagine that by con- 
vincing a lady that she has no soul, she will be 
less Scrupulous about the disposal of her bodj'. 

The ridiculous notions maintained by free- 
thinkers in their writings, scarce deserve a seri- 
ous refutation ; and perhaps the best method ot 
answering them would be to select from their 
works all the absurd and impracticable notions, 
which they so stiffly maintain in order to evade 
the belief of the Christian religion. I shall here 
tlirow together a few of their principal tenets, 
under the contradictory title of 

THE .UNBELIEVER'S CREED. 

I believe that there is no God, but that mat- 
ter is God, and God is matter; and that it is 
no matter whether there is any God or no. 

I believe that the world was not made : that 



No. 10.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



17 



the world made itself; that it had no begin- 
ning; that it will last for ever, world without 
end. 

I believe that man is a beast ; that the soul is 
the body, and the body the soul ; and that after 
death there is neither body nor soul. 

I believe that there is no religion ; that na- 
tural religion is the only religion ; and that all 
religion is unnatural. 

I believe not in Moses ; I believe in tlie First 
Philosophy ; I believe not the Evangelists ; 
I believe in Chubb, Collins, Toland, Tindal, 
Morgan, Mandeville, Woolston, Hobbs, Shaf- 
tesbury ; I believe in Lord Bolingbroke ; I be- 
lieve not St. Paul. 

I believe not Revelation ; I believe in tradi- 
tion ; 1 believe in the Talmud ; I believe in the 
Alcoran ; I believe not the Bible ; I believe in 
Socrates, I believe in Confucius; I believe in 
Sanconiathon ; I believe in Mahomet ; I believe 
not in Christ. 

Lastly, I believe in all unbelief. 

AN ADDRESS 

TO BOTH HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT. 

My Lords and Gentlemen, 

Ever since we have thought fit to take these 
kingdoms into our immediate care, we have 
made it our earnest endeavour to go hand in 
hand with your wisdoms in promoting the wel- 
fare and prosperity of the people. The impor- 
tant business of taxes, lotteries, marriages, and 
Jews, we have left to your weighty considera- 
tion : while ourselves have been employed in the 
regulation of fashions, the establishment of taste, 
and amendment of the morals. We have the 
satisfaction to find, that both our measures have 
hitherto met with success: and the public affairs 
are at present in so prosperous a condition, that 
the national vices seem as likely to decrease as 
the national debt. 

The dissolution of your assembly is now at 
hand ; and as your whole attention will naturally 
be engaged in securing to yourselves and friends 
a seat in the next parliament, it is needless to re- 
commend to you that heads should be broken, 
drunkenness encouraged, and abuse propagated ; 
■which has been found by experience to be the 
best method of supporting the freedom of elec- 
tions. In the mean time, as the care of the 
nation must be left to us, it is necessary that, 
during this interval, our prerogative, as Censor- 
General, should be considerably extended, and 
we should be invested with the united powers of 
Lords and Commons. 

When we are entrusted with this important 
charge, we shall expect, that every different 
faction shall concur in our measures for the 
public utility : that Whig and Tory, High- 
Churoh and Low- Church, Court and Country, 
•hall all unite in this common cause : and that 



opposite parties in the body politic, like the arms 
and legs in the body natural, shall move in con- 
cert, though they are on different sides. In 
our papers, which we continue to publish on 
Thursdays, under the title of The Connoisseur, 
every misdemeanour shall be examined, and 
offenders called to the bar of the House. Be it 
therefore enacted, that those our orders and 
resolutions have an equal authority with acts of 
parliament : as we doubt not they will be of 
equal advantage to the community. 

The extraordinary supplies requisite for the 
service of the current weeks, and for the support 
of our own privy purse, oblige us to demand of 
you that a sum, not exceeding two-pence, be 
levied weekly on each person, to be collected by 
our trusty and well-beloved the booksellers. 
We must also particularly request of you, that 
the same privilege and protection be extended 
to us, which is enjoyed by yourselves, and is so 
very convenient to many of your honourable 
members. It is no less expedient, that we 
should be secured from let or molestation ; be it 
therefore provided, that no one presume to 
arrest, or cause to be arrested, our person, or 
the persons of our publisher, printer, corrector, 
devil, or any other employed in our service. 

We have only to add, that you may rely on 
our care and diligence in discharging the high 
trust reposed in us, in such manner as shall 
merit the thanks of the next parliament. We 
shall then recommend it to their consideration, 
whether it would not be for the interest of these 
kingdoms, that we should have a woolpack 
allotted us with the bishops, or be allowed a 
perpetual seat among the commons, as the re- 
presentative of the whole people. But if this 
should be deemed too great an honour, it will, 
at least, be thought necessary, that we should 
be occasionally called in, like the judges, to 
give our opinion in cases of importance. 

Town, Connoisseur, Critic, and 
T. Censor-General. 



No. 10.] Thursday, April 4, ITSi. 



Homer. 

What knows the stripling of the soldier's trade 
Beyond his regimentals and cockade ? 

Learning, as it polishes the mind, enlarges our 
ideas, and gives an ingenious turn to our whole 
conversation and behaviour, has ever been 
esteemed a liberal accomplishment ; and is, in- 
deed, the principal characteristic that distin- 
guishes the gentleman from the mechai>ic. 

n 



18 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 10. 



This axiom beings universally allowed, I Jiave 
often observed with wonder the neglect of learn- 
ing that prevails among the gentlemen of the 
army; who, notwithstanding their shamcftil 
deficiency in this main requisite, are generally 
proposed as the most exact models of good be- 
havioui", and standards of politeness. 

The art of war is no easy study : it requires 
much labour and application to go through what 
Milton calls "the rudiments of soldiership, in 
all the skill of embattling, marching, encamp- 
ing, fortifying, besieging, and battering, with all 
the helps of ancient and modern stratagems, 
tactics, and warlike maxims." AVith all these, 
every officer should undoubtedly be .acquainted ; 
for mere regimentals no more create a soldier, 
than the cowl makes a monk. But, I fear, the 
generality of our army have made little profi- 
ciency in the art they profess; have learnt little 
more than just to acquit themselves with some 
decency at a review ; have not studied and 
examined as they ought, the ancient and modern 
principles of war ; 

Nor the division of a battle know. 

More than a spinster. Shakspeare. 

Besides the study of the art of war itself, 
there are many collateral branches of literature; 
of which, as gentlemen and as soldiers, they 
should not be ignorant. Whoever bears a com- 
mission in the army should be Avell read in 
history. The examples of Alexander, Csesar, 
or Marlborough, however illustx'ious, are of little 
concern to the generality of readers, but are set 
up as so many land-marks, to direct those who 
are pursuing the same course of glory. A 
thorough knowledge of history would furnish 
a commander with true couj-age, inspire him 
with an honest emulation of his ancestors, and 
teach him to gain a victory without s?iedding 
blood. 

Poetry too, more especially that of the an- 
cients, seems particularly calculated for the 
perusal of those concerned in war. The subject 
of the Iliad is entirely martial ; and the princi- 
pal characters ai-e <listinguished from each other 
chiefly by their different exertion of the single 
quality of courage. It was, I suppose, on 
account of this martial spirit, Avhich breathes 
throughout the Iliad, that Alexander was so 
captivated with it, that he is said to have laid it 
every night under his pillow. The principal 
character in the iEneid is a general, of remark- 
able piety and courage ; and great part of the 
poem is made up of war. These studies cannot, 
surely, fail of animating a modern breast, 
which often kindled such a noble ardour in the 
ancients. 

If we look into the lives of the greatest 
generals of antiquity, we shall find tliem no 
mean proficients in science. They led their 
arnues to victory by their courage, and support- 



ed the state by their counsels. They rerered 
the same Pallas, as the goddess of war and of 
wisdom ; and the Spartans in particular, before 
they entered on an engagement, always sacri- 
ficed to the Muses. The exhortations, given by 
commanders before the onset, are some of tlie 
most animated pieces of oratory in all antiquity, 
and frequently produced astonishing effects, 
rousing the soldiers from despair, and hurrying 
them on to victory. An illiterate commander 
would have been the contempt of Greece and 
Rome. Tully, indeed, was called the learned 
Consul in derision ; but then, as Drydcn ob- 
serves, " his head was turned another way. 
When he read the tactics, he was thinking on 
the bar, which was his field of battle." 1 am 
particularly pleased with the character of Scipio 
jEmilianus, as drawn by Velleius Paterculus, 
and would recommend it to the sei"ious imitation 
of our modern officers. He was so great an 
admirer of liberal studies, that he always re- 
tained the most eminent wits in his camp : nor 
did any one fill up the intervals of business witii 
more elegance, retiring from wai- only to culti- 
vate the arts of peace ; always employed inarms 
or study, always exercising his body with perils, 
or disciplining his mind with science. The 
author contrasts this amiable portrait -with a 
description of Mummius ; a general so little 
versed in the polite arts, that, having taken at 
Corinth several pictures and statues of the 
greatest artists, he threatened the persons who 
were intrusted with the carriage of them to 
Italy, " that, if they lost those, they should give 
new ones." 

I would fain have a British officer looked upon 
with as much deference as those of Greece and 
Rome : but while they neglect the acquisition of 
the same accomplishments, they will never meet 
with the same respect. Instead of cultivating 
their minds, they are wholly taken up in 
adorning their bodies, and look upon gallantj y 
and intrigue as essential parts of their character. 
To glitter in the boxes, or at an assembly, is the 
full display of their politeness; and to be the 
life and soul of a lewd brawl, almost the only 
exertion of their courage ; insomuch that there 
is a good deal of justice in Macheath's raillery, 
when he says, " if it was not for us, and the 
other gentlemen of the sword, Drury-Lane 
would be uninhabited." 

It is something strange, that officers should 
want any inducement to acquire so gentleman- 
like an accomplishment as learning. If they 
imagine it would derogate from their good- 
breeding, or call of their attention from militai-y 
business, they are mistaken. Pedantry is no 
more connected Avith learning, than ra^jhuess 
%vith courage. Casar, who was the finest 
gentleman and the greatest general, was also the 
best scholar of his age. 

To say the truth; learning wcais a more 



No. 11.- 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



19 



amiable aspect and wii)iiiag air in courts and 
camps, whenever it appears there, than amid the 
gk)om of colleges and cloisters. Mixing in gen- 
teel life files off the rust that may have been con- 
tracted by study, and wears out any little odd- 
ness or peculiarity, that may be acquired in the 
closet. For this reason, the officer is more inex- 
cusable who neglects an accomplishment that 
would sit so gi-acefidly vipon him : for this rea- 
son, too, we pay so great deference to those few 
who have cm*iched their minds with the trea- 
sures of antiquity. An illiterate officer either 
hardens into a bravo, or refines into a fop. The 
insipidity of the fop is uttei'ly contemptible ; and 
a rough brutal courage, unpolished by science, 
and unassisted by reason, lias no more claim to 
heroism, than the case-hardened valour of a 
bruiser or prize-fighter. Agreeable to this no- 
tion, Homer in the fifth Iliad represents the 
goddess Miners'aas wounding Mars, and driving 
the heavy deity off the field of battle ; implying 
allegorically, that wisdom is capable of subduing 
courage. 

I would flatter myself, that British minds are 
still as noble, and British geniu-s as exuberant, 
as those of any other nation or age whatever ; 
but that some are debased by luxury, and others 
run wild for 'want of proper cultivation. If 
Athens can boast her MUtiades, ,Themistocles, 
&o. Rome her Camillus, Fabius, Cfesar, &c. 
England had her Edwards, Henrys, and IMarl- 
boroughs. It is to be hoped the time will come, 
when learning will be reckoned as necessary to 
qualify a man for the army, as for the bar or 
pulpit. Then we may expect to see the British 
soldiery enter on the field of battle, as on a 
theatre, for which they are prepared in the parts 
they are to act. " They will not then, (as Milton 
expresses himself with his usual strength in his 
Treatise on Education) if intrusted with fair 
and hopeful armies, suffer them, for want of 
just and wise discipline, to shed away from 
about them like sick feathers, though they be 
never so oft supplied : they would not suffer 
their empty and unrecruitable colonels of t wwity 
men in a company, to quaff out, or convey into 
secret hoards, the wages of a delusive list and 
miserable remnant ; yet in the meanwhile to be 
over-mastered with a score or two of drunkards, 
the only soldiery left about them ; or else to 
comply with all rapines and violences. No, 
certainly, if they kne%y auglit of that knoAvledge, 
that belongs to good men and good govai-nors, 
they would not suffer these things." O. 



No. 11.] Thursday, April II, 1754. 



fpsa colat.' 



•Pallas quas condidit arces 



Vine. 



Let Fallas dwell in towers herself has »aiscd. 
1'he principal character in Steele's comedy of 



the Lying Lover is j^oung Book wit ; an Oro - 
nian, who at once throws off the habit and man- 
ners of an academic, and assumes the dress, air, 
and conversation of a naan of the town. He 
is, like other fine gentlemen, a coxcomb ; but a, 
coxcomb of learning and parts. His erudition 
he renders subservient to his pleasures : his 
knowledge in poetry qualifies him for a son- 
neteer, his rhetoric to say fine things to the 
ladies, and his philosophy to regulate his equi- 
page ; for he talks of having " Peripatetic foot- 
men, a follower of Aristippus for a valet de 
chambre, an epicurian cook, with an hermetical 
chemist (who are good only at making fires) 
for a scullion." Thus he is, in every particular, 
a fop of letters, a complete classical beau. 

By a review I have lately made of the people 
in this great metropolis, as Censor, I find that 
the town swarais with bookwits. The play- 
houses, parks, taverns, and coffee-houses are 
thronged with them. Their manner, which 
has something in it very chai'acteristic, and dif- 
fei'ent from the town-bred coxcombs, discovers, 
them to the slightest observer. It is, indeed, no 
easy matter for one, whose chief employment is 
to store his mind with new ideas, to throw that 
happy vacancy, that total absence of thou^ght and 
reflection, into his countenance, so remarkable 
in our modern fine gentlemen. The same loung- 
ing air, too, that passes for genteel in a univer- 
sity coffee-house, is soon distinguished from the 
genuine careless loll, and easy saunter ; and 
bring us over to the notion of Sir Wilful in The 
Way of the World, " that a man should be 
bound 'prentice to a maker of fops, before he 
ventures to set up for himself." 

Yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, the 
love of pleasure, and a few sujiernumcrary 
guineas, draw the student from his literary em- 
ployment, and entice him to this theatre of noise 
and hiu'ry, this grand mart of luxury ; where 
as long as his purse can supply him, he may be 
as idle and debauched as he pleases. I could not 
help smiling at a dialogue between two of these 
gentlemen, which I overheard a few nights age 
at the Bedford Coffee-house, " Ha ! Jack (says 
one accosting the other) is it you? how long 
have you been in town?" — "Two hours." — 
" How long do you stay ! — Ten guineas.— If 
you'll come to Venable's after the play is over, 
you'll find 'Torn Latine, Bob Classic, and two 
or three more, who will be very glad to see you. 
What, you're in town upon the sober plan at 
your father's ? But harkye, Frank, if you'll call 
in. 111 tell your friend Harris to prepare for 
you. So your sei^A-ant ; for I am going to meet 
the finest girl upon town in the green boxes." 

I left the colfoo-house pretty late ; and as 1 
came into the piazza, the fire in the Bedford- 
Arms kitchen blazed so cheerfully and invitingly 
before me, that I v-as easily persuaded by a 
iiiond who was with me, to end the evening at 
that house. Our good fortune^ led us into tlio 



20 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



TNo. 12. 



next room to this knot of academical rakes. 
Their merriment being pretty boisterous, gave 
■us a good pretext to inquire what company were 
in the next room. The waiter tol J us, with a 
smartness which those fellows frequently con- 
tract from attending on beaux and wits, " some 
gentlemen from Oxford, with some ladies, Sir. 
My master is always very glad to see them ; for 
while they stay in town, they never dine or sup 
out of his house, and eat and drink, and pay 
better than any nobleman." 

As it grew [later they gi-ew louder : till at 
length an unhappy dispute arose between two of 
the company, concerning the present gi'and con- 
test between the Old and the NeAv Interest, 
which has lately inflamed Oxfordshire. This 
accident might have been attended with ugly 
consequences : but.as the ladies are gi'eat ene- 
mies to quarrelling, unless themselves are the 
occasion, a good-natured female of the company 
interposed, and quelled their animosity. By 
the mediation of this fair one, the dispute ended 
very fashionably, in a bet of a dozen of claret, 
to be drank there by the company then present, 
whenever the wager should be decided. There 
was something so extraordinary in their whole 
evening's conversation, such an odd mixture!,of 
the town and university, that I am persuaded, 
if Sir Richard had been witness to it, he could 
have Avrought it into a scene as lively and enter- 
taining as any he has left us. 

The whole time these Jettered beaux remain 
in London, is spent in a continual round of 
diversion. Their sphere, indeed, is somcAvhat 
confined ; for they generally eat, drink, and sleep 
within the precincts of CoA^ent- Garden. I re- 
member I once saAV, at a public inn on the road 
to Oxford, a journal of the town transactions of 
one of these sparks ; who had recorded them on 
a window-pane for the example and imitation of 
his fellow-students. I shall present my reader 
with an exact copy of this curious journal, as 
nearly as I can remember. ° 

Monday, rode to town in six hours — saw the 
two last acts of Hamlet — at night Avith Polly 
BroAA'n. 

Tuesday, saAV Harlequin Sorcerer — at night, 
Polly again. 

Wednesday, saAV Macbeth — at night, with 
Sally Parker, Polly engaged. 

Thursday, saAv the Suspicious Husband — at 
night, Polly again. 

Friday, set out at tAvelve o'clock for Oxford — 
a damn'd muzzy place. 

There are no set of mortals more joyous 
than these occasional rakes, whose pride it is to 
gallop up to toAvn once or tAvice in the year Avith 
their quarterage in their pockets, and in a feAv 
days to squander it aAvay in the highest scenes 
of luxury and debauchery. The taA'ern, the 
theatre, and the bagnio, engross the I'hief part of 
their attention ; and it is constantly Polly again 



with them, till their finances are quite exhaust- 
ed, and they are obliged to return (as Book-Avit 
has it) " to small beer and three-halfpenny com- 
mons." 

I shall enlarge no further on this subject at 
present, but conclude these reflections with an 
Ode, Avhich I haA-e received from an unknown 
coiTespondent. He tells me, it Avas lately sent 
from an academical fi'iend to one of these gentle- 
men, Avho had resigned himself wholly to these 
polite enjojTnents, and seemed to have forgot 
his connections with the University. AU, who 
peruse this elegant little piece, Avill I doubt not, 
thank me for inserting it ; and the learned 
reader will haA'e the additional pleasure of ad- 
miring it as a humorous imitation of Horace, 

led, beatis nunc Arabuiminvides 

Gazis, S(c, L. I. Ode xxix. 

So you, my friend, at last are caught 

Where could you get so strange a thought. 

In mind and body sound ? 
All meaner studies you resign, 
Your Avhole ambition now to shine 

The beau of the beau-monde. 

Say, gallant youth, what Avell-known name 
Shall spread the triumphs of your fame 

Through all the realms of Drury ? 
How will you strike the gaping cit ? 
What tavern shall record your wit ? 

What Avatchmen mourn your fury ? 

What sprightly imp of Gallic breed 
Shall have the culture of your head, 

(I mean the outward part) 
Form'd by his parent's early care 
To range in nicest curls the hair. 

And Avield the puff with art ? 

No more let mortals toil in vain. 
By wise conjecture to explain 

What rolling time will bring : 
Thames to his source may upwards flo v. 
Or Garrick six feet high may grow, 

Or Avitches thrive at Tring : 

Since you each better promise break. 
Once famed for slov'nliness and Greek, 

Now turn'd a very Paris, 
For lace and velvet quit your gown, 
The Stagyritc for Mr. ToAvn, 

For Drury-lane St Mary's. 



No. 12.] Thursday, April IS, 1754. 



Nee verb hoc sinesorte data:, sine judice scdes. ViRii. 

Nor shall the four-lcgg'd culprit 'scape the law. 
But at the bar hold up the guilty paw. 

Turning OA'cr the last A'olumo of Lord Boling- 
broke's Works a feAV days ago, I could not help 
smiling at his lordship's extraordinary manner 
of commenting on some parts of the Scriptures. 



No. 12.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



21 



\mong the rest he represents Moses, as making 
beasts accountable to the community for crimes, 
as well as men : whence his lordship infers, 
that the Jewish legislator supposed them capa- 
ble of distinguishing between right and wrong, 
and acting as moral agents. The oddity of this re- 
mark led me to reflect, if such an opinion should 
prevail in my country, what whimsical laws 
would be enacted, and how ridiculous they 
would appear, when put in execution. As if 
the horse, that carried the highwayman, should 
be arraigned for taking a purse, or a dog indict- 
ed for feloniously stealing a shoulder of mutton. 
Such a country would seem to go upon the same 
principles, and to entertain the same notions of 
justice, as the puritanical old woman, that hanged 
her cat for killing mice on the sabbath-day. 

These reflections were continued afterwards 
in my sleep ; when methought such proceeding-s 
were common in our oAvn courts of judicature. 
I imagined myself in a spacious hall like the Old 
Bailey, Avhere they were preparing to tr^ sev- 
eral animals, who had been guilty of offences 
against the laws of the land. The walls, I ob- 
served, were hung all round with bulls'-hides, 
sheep-skins, foxes-tails, and the spoils of other 
brute-malefactors; and over the justice-seat, 
where the King's Arms are commonly placed, 
there was fixed a large stag's head, which over- 
shadowed the magistrate with its branching 
horns. I took particular notice, that the galler- 
ies were veiy much crowded with ladies ; which 
I could not tell how to account for, till I found 
it was expected that a Goat would that day be 
tried for a rape. ' 

The sessions soon opened : and the first pris- 
oner that was brought to the bar, was a Hog, 
who was prosecuted at the suit of the Jews on 
an indictment for burglary, in breaking into 
their synagogue. As it was apprehended, that 
religion might be affected by this cause, and as 
the prosecution appeared to be malicious, the 
Hog, though the fact w^as plainly proved against 
him, to the great joy of all true Chi-istians was 
allowed Benefit of Clergy. 

An indictment was next brought against a 
Cat for killing a favourite canarj'-bird. This 
offender belonged to an old woman who was be- 
lieved by the neighbourhood to be a witch. The 
jury, therefore, were unanimous in their opin- 
ion, that she was the devil in that shape, and 
brought her in guilty. Upon which the judge 
formally pronounced sentence upon her, which 
I remember concluded with these words : ' You 
must be carried to the place of execution, where 
you are to be hanged by the neck nine times, till 
you are dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, 
dead, dead, and the fiddlers have mercy on 
your guts. ' 

A Parrot was next tried for sca7idahim mag- 
"latum. He was accused by tlie chief magistrate 
ef the city, and the whole court of aldermen, for 



defaming them, as they passed along the sti'eet, 
on a public festival, by singing " Room for cuck- 
olds, here comes a great company, room for 
cuckolds, here comes my lord mayor. " This Par- 
rot was a very old offender ; much addicted to 
scurrility ; and had been several times convicted 
of profane cui'sing and swearing. He had even 
the impudence to abuse the whole court by call- 
ing the j ury rogues and rascals ; and frequent- 
ly inten'upted my lord judge in summing up 
the evidence by crying out ' old bitch.' The 
court, however, was pleased to show mercy to 
him, upon the petition of his mistress, a strict 
Methodist ; who gave bail for his good beha- 
viour, and delivered him over to Mr. Whitefield, 
who undertook to make a thorough convert of 
him. 

After this a Fox was indicted for robbing a 
hen-roost. Many farmers appeared against him, 
who deposed, that he was a very notorious thief, 
and had long been the terror of ducks, geese, 
tiu-keys, and all other poultiy. He had infest- 
ed the country a long time, and had often been 
pursued, but they^could never take him before. 
As the evidence was very full against him, the 
jui-y readily brought him in guilty; and the 
judge was proceeding to condemn him, when 
the sly villain, watering his brush, flirted it in 
the face of the jailor, and made off. Upon this 
a coimtiy squire, who was present, hallooed out. 
Stole away ! and a hue and cry was immediate- 
ly sent after him. 

When the uproar, which this occasioned, was 
over, a Milch- Ass was brought to the bar, and 
tried for contumeliously braying, as she stood 
at the door of a sick lady of quality. It appear- 
ed that this lady was terribly afflicted with the 
vapours, and could not bear the least noise ; had 
the knocker always tied up, and straw laid in 
the street. Notwithstanding which, this au- 
dacious creatm-e used every morning to give her 
foul language, which broke her rest, and flung 
her into hysterics. For this repeated abuse the 
criminal was sentenced to the pUlory, and 
ordered to lose her ears. 

An information was next laid against a shep- 
herd's Dog upon the Game Act for poaching. 
He was accused of killing a hare, without being 
properly qualified. But the plaintiff thought it 
advisable to quash the indictment, as the owner 
of the dog had a vote to sell at the next election. 

There now came on a very important cause, 
in which six of the most eminent comicil learn- 
ed in the law Avere retained on each side. A 
Monkey belonging to a lady of the first rank and 
fashion, was indicted for that he with malice 
prepense did commit wilful murder on the body 
of a lap-dog. The council for the prosecutor 
?et forth, that the imfortunate deceased came on 
a visit with another lady ; when the prisoner at 
the bar, without the least provocation, and con- 
trary to the laws of hospitality, perpetrated this 



22 



THE CONNOISSEUR, 



[No. 13. 



inhuman fact. Tlie council for the prisoner, 
being called upon to make the Monkey's defence, 
pleaded his piuvUege, and insisted on his being 
tjied by his peers. This plea was admitted ; and 
a jury of beaux Avas immediately empannelled, 
who without going out of court honourably ac- 
quitted him. 

The proceedings were here interrupted by a 
Hound who came jumping into the hall, and 
running to the justice-seat, lifted up his leg 
against the judge's robe. For this contemptu- 
ous behaviour, he was directly ordered into cus- 
tody ; when to our great surprise he cast his 
skin and became an Ostrich ; and presently after 
shed his feathers, and terrified us in the shaggy 
figure of a Bear. Then he was a Lion, then a 
Horse, then again a Baboon ; and after many 
other amazing transformations, leaped out a 
Harlequin, and before they could take hold of 
him, skipped away to Covent- Garden theatre. 

It Avould be tedious to recount the particulars 
of several other ^trials. A sportsman brought 
ail action against a Race- Horse, for running on 
the wrong side of the post, by which he lost the 
plate and many considerable bets. For this the 
criminal was sentenced to be bui'nt in the fore- 
hand, and to be whipt at the cart's tail. A 
Mare Avould have undergone the same punish- 
ment, for throwing her rider in a stag-hunt, but 
escaped by pleading her belly ; upon which a 
jury of grooms was empannelled, who brought 
her in quick. The company of Dogs and Mon- 
keys, together with the dancing Bears, who 
were taken up on the License Act, and indicted 
for strollers, were transported for life. 

The last trial was for high treason. A Lion, 
who had been long confined as a state-prisoner 
in the Tower, having broken jail, had appeared 
in open rebellion, and committed several acts of 
violence on his majesty's liege subjects. As this 
was a noble animal, and a prince of the blood in 
Ills own native country, he was condemned to be 
beheaded. It came into my thoughts, that this 
lion's head might vie with that famous one for- 
merly erected at Button's for the service of the 
Guardian. I was accordingly going to petition 
for leave to put it up in Macklin's new coffee- 
house ; when raethought the Lion, setting up a 
most horrible roar, broke liis chains, and put the 
whole court to flight ; and I awak6<l in the ut- 
most consternation, just as I imagined he had 
got me in his gripe. 



»-»*'W%^***^x*-WV*» 



I ■WV^'V* •V* •w 



No. 13.] Thursday, AmiL 25, 1754. 



— — Conw70tn fcrvct. plcLccula bile. Persi I's. 

Inspired by freedom, and election al?^ 

Tlic patriot-njob at courts and placemen rail. 

I SHALL this day present my readers Avith a 



letter, which I have received from my cousin 
Village ; Avho, as I infonncd them iu my first 
paper, has undertaken to send me an account ut" 
every thing remaikable, that passes in the coun- 
try. 

Dear Cousin, 

I have not been unmindful of the province 
which you Avas pleased to allot me ; but the 
whole countiy has been lately so much taken up 
Avith the business of elections, that nothing haa 
fallen under my notice, but debates, squabbles, 
and drunken rencounters. The spirit of party 
prevails so uni\-ersally, that the very children 
are instructed to lisp the names of the favourite 
chiefs of each faction ; and I have more than 
once been in danger of being knocked of niy 
horse, as I rode peaceably on, because I did not 
declare with Avhich party I sided, though I 
kncAV nothing at all of either. Every petty vil- 
lage abounds Avith the most profound statesmen : 
it is common to see our rustic politicians assem- 
bling after sermon, and settling the good of their 
country across a tomb-stone, like so many dic- 
tators from the plough ; and almost every cot- 
tage can boast its patriot, Avho, like the old Ro- 
man, Avould not exchange his turnip for a bribe. 

I am at present in ****, Avhere the election is 
just coming on, and the Avhole town conse- 
quently in an uproar. They haA-e for several 
parliaments returned two members, avIio recom- 
mended themselves by constantly opposing the 
court : but tiitve came down a few days ago a 
banker from London, who has offered liimself 
a candidate, and is backed Avith the most power- 
ful of all interests, money. Nothing has Ijeen 
since thought of but feasting and revelling ; and 
both parties strive to outdo each other in the fre- 
quency and expense of their entertainments. 
This, indeed, is the general method made use of 
to gain the fiA^our of electors, and manifest a 
zeal for the constitution. I have knoAvn a can- 
didate depend more upon the strength of his 
liquor than his arguments; and the merits of a 
treat has often recommended a member, Avhohas 
had no merits of his own. For it is cei'tain, 
that people, hoAveA'er they may differ in other 
points, are unanimous in promoting the grand 
business of eating and drinking. 

It is impossible to give a particular account ot 
the A'arious disorders occasioned by the content 
in this toAvn. The streets ring Avith the diflVr- 
ent cry of each party ; and every horn- produces 
a ballad, a set of queries, or a serious address to 
tlie Avorthy electors. I have seen the mayor, 
Avilh half the corporation, roaring, hallooing, 
!.nd reeling along the streets, and yet tlu-eaten- 
ing to clap a poor IVUoav into the stocks for 
making the sanie noise, only because he Avould 
not vole as tbey do. It is no Avonder that the 
strongest c(Uincctions should be broken, and tlie 
most intimate friends set at viuiiuicc, through 



No. 15.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



23 



t]i?!r difference of opinions. Not only the men, 
bat their wives were also engaged in the same 
quarrel. INIr. Staunch the haberdasher used to 
smoke his pipe constantly, in the same kitchen 
comer every evening, at the same alehouse, with 
his neighbour, Mr. Veer the chandler, while 
their ladies chatted together at the street-door : 
out now the husbands never speak to each 
other ; and consequently Mrs. Veer goes a 
quarter of a mile for her inkle and tape, rather 
than deal at Mr. Staunch's shop; and Mrs. 
Staimch declai-es, she Avould go without her tea, 
though she has always been used to it twice a 
day, rather than fetch her half quartern from 
that turn-coat Veer's. 

Wherever politics are introduced, religion is 
alvvays drawn into the quarrel. The town I 
have been speaking of, is divided into two parties, 
who are distinguished by the appellatiou of 
Christians and Jews. The Jews, it seems, are 
those who are in the interest of a nobleman, who 
gave his vote for passing the Jew-bill, and are 
held in abomination by the Christians. The 
zeal of the latter is still further inflamed by the 
vicar, who everj' Simday thunders out his ana- 
themas, and preaclies up the pious doctrines of 
persecution. In this he is seconded by the 
clerk, who is careful to enforce the arguments 
from the pulpit, by selecting staves proper for 
tlie occasion. 

This truly Christian spirit is no where more 
manifest than at their public feasts. I was at 
one of theh' dimiers, where I foimd great variety 
of x»ig-meat was provided. The table was co- 
vered from one end to the other with hams, legs 
of pork, spare-ribs, gi'iskins, haslets, feet and 
cars, brawn, and the like. In the middle there 
smoked a large barbecued hog, which was soon 
devoured to the bone, so desiroxis was every one 
to prove his Christianity by the quantity he 
could swaUow of that Anti- Judaic food. After 
dinner there was brought in, by way of desert, a 
dish of hog's puddings ; but as I have a dislike 
to that kind of diet, (though not from any scru- 
ple of conscience) I was regarded as little better 
than a Jew for declining to eat of them. 

The great support of this pai"ty is an old 
neighbouring knight, who, ever since the late 
natiu^zation act, has conceived a violent anti- 
pathy to the Jews, and takes every opportunity of 
railing at the above-mentioned nobleman. Sir 
Rowland swears, that his lordship is ^vorse than 
Judas, that he is actually circiuncised, and that 
the chapel in his house is turned mto a syna- 
gogue. The knight had never been seen in a 
church till the late clamom* about the Jew-bUl ; 
but he now attends it regularly every Sunday, 
where he devoutly takes his nap all the service ; 
and he lately bestowed the best living in his gift, 
which he had before promised to his chaplain, on 
one whom he had never seen, but had read liis 
name in a title-page to a sermon against the Jews. 



He turned off his butler, who had lived with 
him many years, (and whose only crime was a 
swarthy complexion) because the dog looked like 
a Jew. He feeds hogs in his park and the court- 
yard, and has guinea-pigs in his parlour. Every 
Saturday he has a hunt, because it is the Jewish 
sabbath; and in the evening he is sm-e to get 
drunk with the vicar in defence of religion. As 
he is in the commission, he oixlered a poor Jew 
pedlar, who came to hawk goods at his house, to 
Bridewell ; and he vras once going to send a 
little parish-boy to the same place, for presuming 
to play in his worship's hearing on that vmchi'is- 
tian-like instrument the Jew's-harp. 

The fair sex here are no less ambitious of dis- 
playing their affection for the same cause ; and 
they manifest their sentiments by the colour and 
fashion of their dress. Their zeal more parti- 
cularly shows itself in a variety of posies for 
rings, buckles, knots, and garters. I observed 
the other night at the assembly, that the ladies 
seemed to vie with each other in hanging out 
the ensigns of the faith in orthodox ribands, 
bearing the inscription of No Jews. Christi- 
anity for ever. They likewise wore little cross- 
es at their breasts ; their pompons were formed 
into crucifixes, their knots disposed in the same 
angles, and so many parts of their habits mould- 
ed into that shape, that the whole assembly 
looked like the court on St. Andrew's day. It 
was remarkable that the vicar's lady, who is 
a thorough-paced High- Chuixh- woman, was 
more religious in the decorations of her dress 
than any of the company ; and, indeed, she was 
so stuck over from head to foot with crosses, that 
a wag justly compared her to an old Popish mo- 
nument in a Gothic cathedral. 

I shall conclude my letter with the relation of 
an adventure, that happened to myself at my 
first coming into this to^vn. I intended to put 
up at the Catherine- Wheel, as I had often used 
the house before, and knew the landlord to be a 
good civil kind of fellow. I accordingly tiu-ned 
my horse into the yard, when, to my great sur- 
prise, the landlord, as soon as he saw me, gave 
me a hearty curse, and told me I might go about 
my business, " for indeed he would not enter- 
tain any such rascals. " Upon this he said some- 
thing to two or three strapping countrj^-fellows 
who immediately came towards me : and if I 
had not rode away directly, I should have met 
with a very rough salutation from their horse- 
whips. I could not imagine what offence I had 
committed, that could give occasion for such iU 
usage, till I heard the master of the inn halloo- 
ing after me, " that's the scoundrel that came 
here some time ago with Tom T'otherside ;" 
who, I have since learned, is an agent for the 
other party, 

I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c. 



2* THE CONNOISSEUR 

No. 14.J Thursday, May 2, 1754. 



[N». 14. 



'Turn in lecto quoque videres 



Stridcre secretd divisos aure susurros. 
NuUos his malleni ludos spectasse. Sed ilia 
Redde age, qius deinceps risisti. . Hok. 

Imparted to each laughter-loving fair. 
The whizzing whisper glides from chair to chsir : 
And e'er the conscious ear receives it half, 
With titterings they betray the stifled laugh. 
Such giggling glee !— what farce so full of mirth '. 
But tell the tickling cause which gave it birth. 

TO MR. TOWN. 
Sir, 
As the ladies are naturally become the imme- 
diate objects of your care, ■will you permit a 
complaint to be inserted in your paper, which is 
founded upon a matter of fact ? They will per- 
don me, if by laying before you a particular in- 
stance I was lately witness to of their impi'o- 
per behaviour. I endeavour to expose a i-eigning 
ovil, which subjects them to many shameful im- 
l>utations. 

I received last week a dinner-card from a 
fnend, -v^lh an intimation that I should meet 
some very agreeable ladies. At my arrival, I 
found that the company consisted chiefly of fo- 
males, who indeed did me the honour to rise, 
but quite disconcerted me in paying my respects, 
by their whispering each other, and appearing 
to stifle a laugh. When I was seated, the ladies 
grouped themselves up in a corner, and entered 
into a private cabal, seemingly to discourse upon 
points of great secrecy and importance, but of 
equal merriment and diversion. 

The same conduct of keeping close to their 
ranks was observed at table, where the ladies 
seated themselves together. Their conversation 
was here also confined wholly to themselves, and 
seemed like th« mistress of the Bona JDea, in 
which men were forbidden to have any share. 
It wasa continued laugh and Avhisper from the 
beginning to the end of dinner. A whole sen- 
tence was scarce ever spoken aloud. Single words 
indeed, now and then broke forth ; such as odious, 
horrible, detestable, shocking, humbug. This 
last new-coined expression, which is only to be 
found in the nonsensical vocabulary, sounds 
absurd and disagreeable, whenever it is pronoun- 
ced : but from the mouth of a lady it is * shock- 
i ng, detestable, horrible, and odious. ' 

My friend seemed to be in an uneasy situation 
at his own table ; but I was far more miserable. 
I was mute, and seldom dared to lift up my eyes 
from my plate, or turn my head to call for small 
beer, lest by some awkward gesture I might draw 
upon me a wliisper or a laugh. Sancho, when 
he was forbid to eat a delicious banquet set be- 
fore him, could scarce appear more melancholy, 
'i'he rueful length of my face might possibly in- 
crease the mirth of my tormentors : at least, 
their joy seemed to rise in exact proportion 



with my misery. At length, however, the time 
of my delivery approached. Dinner ended, tlie la- 
dies made their exit in pairs, and went off, hand in 
hand, whispering,like the two kings of Brentford. 
Modest men, Mr. Town, are deeply wounded, 
when they imagine themselves the objects of 
ridicule or contempt : and the pain is the great- 
er, when it is given by those whom they admire, 
and from whom they are ambitious of receiving 
any marks of countenance and favour. Yet we 
must allow, that affronts are pardonable from 
ladies, as they are often prognostics of future 
kindness. If a lady strikes our cheek, we caa 
very willingly follow the precept of the Gospel, 
and turn the other cheek to be smitten. Even 
a blow from a fair hand conveys pleasure. But 
this battery of whispers is against all legal rights 

of war : poisoned an'ows, and stabs in the 

dark, are not more repugnant to the general 
laws of humanity. 

If the misconduct which I have described, 
had been only to be found, Mr. Town, at my 
friend's table, I should not have troubled you 
with this letter ; but the same kind of ill breed- 
ing prevails too often, and in too many places. 
Thegigglers and the whisperers are innumer- 
able : they beset us wherever we go ; and it is ob- 
servable, that, after a short mui-mur of whispers 
out comes the burst of laughter : like a gunpow- 
der serpent, which, after liissing about for some 
time, goes off in a bounce. 

Modern writers of comedy often introduce a 
a pert witling into their pieces, who is very se- 
vere upon the rest of the company j but all his 
waggery is spoken aside. These gigglers and 
whisperers seem to be acting the same pai't in 
company, that this arch rogue does in the play. 
Every word or motion produces a train of whis- 
pers ; the dropping of a snuff-box, or spilling the 
tea, is sure to be accompanied with a titter : and 
upon the entrance of any one with something 
particular in his person or manner, I have seen 
a whole room in abuzz like a bee-hive. 

This practice of whispering, if it is any where 
allowable, may, perhaps, be indulged the fair 
sex at church, where the conversation ran only 
be carried on by the secret sjTnbols of a courtesy, 
an ogle or a nod. A whisper in tliis place is very 
often of great use, as it serves to convey the 
most secret intelligence, which a Isidy would Ikj 
ready to burst with, if she could not find vent 
for it by this kind of auricular confession. A 
piece of scandal transpires in this manner from 
one pew to another, then presently whizzes 
along the chancel, from whence it crawls up to 
the galleries, till at last the whole church hums 
with it. 

It were also to be wished, that the ladies 
would be pleased to confine themselves to whis- 
pering, in their tete-a-tete conferences at the 
opera or tlie play-hotise; which would be a 
projter defer uuice to the rest of the audience. In 



No. 15.2 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



25 



France, we are told, it is common for the parterre 
to join with the performers in any favom'ite air ; 
but we seem to have carried this custom still 
further, as the company in oxir hoxes, without 
concerning themselves in the least with the play, 
are even louder than the players. The wit and 
humour of a Vanbrugh or a Congreve is fre- 
quently interrupted by a brilliant dialogue be- 
tAveen tAvo persons of fashion ; and a love-scene 
in the side-box, has often been more attended to, 
than that on the stage. As to their loud bm'sts 
of laughter at the theatre, they may very well 
be excused, when they are excited by any lively 
strokes in a comedy : but I have seen our ladies 
titter at the most distressful scenes in Romeo 
and Juliet, grin over the anguish of a Monimia, 
or Belvidera, and fairly laugh King Lear oflF the 
stage. 

ITius the whole behaviour of these ladies is in 
direct contradiction to good manners. They 
laugh When they should cry, are loud when they 
should be silent, and are silent when theii* con- 
versation is desirable. If a man, in a select 
company, was thus to laugh or whisper me out 
of countenance, I should be apt to construe it as 
an afiront, and demand an explanation. As to 
the ladies, I would desire them to reflect how 
much they would suffer, if their own weapons 
were turned against them, and the gentlemen 
should attack them with the same arts of laugh- 
ing and whispering. But, however free they 
may be from our resentment, they are still open 
to ill-natured suspicions. They do not consider, 
what strange constructions may be put on these 
laughs and whispers. It were, indeed, of little 
consequence, if we only imagined that they were 
taking the reputations of theh* acquaintance to 
pieces, or abusing the company round ; but when 
they indulge themselves in this behaviour, some, 
perhaps, may be led to conclude, that they are 
discoursing upon topics, which they ai'e ashamed 
to speak of in a less pz'ivate manner. 

Some excuse may perhaps be framed for this 
ill-timed merriment in the fair sex. Venus, the 
goddess of beauty, is frequently called the laugh- 
ter-loving dame ; and by laughing our modern 
ladies may possibly imagine, that they render 
themselves like Venvis. I have indeed remarked, 
that the ladies commonly adjust their laugh to 
their persons, and are merry in proportion as it 
sets off their particular charms. One lady is 
never farther moved than to a smile or a simper, 
because nothing else shows hei" dimples to so 
much advantage ; another, who has a very fine 
set of teeth, runs into the broad grin ; while a 
third, who is admii'ed for a well turned neck 
and graceful chest, calls up all her beauties to 
view, by breaking into violent and repeiited peals 
of laughter. 

I would not be understood to impose gravity 
or too gi-eat a reserve on the fair sex. Let them 
l3ugh at a feather ; but let them declare openly, 



that it is a feather which occasions their mirth. 
I must confess, that laughter becomes the young, 
gay, and the handsome : but a whisper is unbe- 
coming at aU ages, and in both sexes ; nor ought 
it ever to be practised, except in the round gal- 
lery at St. Paul's, or in the famous whispering 
place in Gloucester Cathedral, where two whis- 
perers hear each other at the distance of five and 
twenty yards. 

I am, Sir, 

Yolu* most humble ^servant, 
K. L. 



No. 15.] Thursday, May 9, 1754, 



■ Tii die, mecum quopigiKn-e certes. Virg. 
Name your Bet. 

A FRIEND of mine, who belongs to the Stamp- 
Oflice, acquaints me, that the revenue arising 
from the duty on cards and dice continues to in- 
crease every year, and that it now brings in near 
six times more than it did at first. This will 
not appear very wonderful, when we consider, 
that gaming is now become rather the business 
than amusement of our persons of quality : and 
that they are more concerned about the transac- 
tions of the two clubs at White's than the pro- 
ceedings of both houses of parliament. Thus 
it happens, that estates are now almost as fre- 
quently made over by whist and hazard, as by 
deeds and settlements ; and the chariots of many 
of our nobility may be said (like Count Basset's 
in the play) " to I'oll upon the four aces." 

This love of gaming has taken such entire 
possession of their ideas, that it infects their 
common conversation. The management of a 
dispute was formerly attwnpted by reason and 
argument ; but the new way of adjusting all 
difference in opinion is by the sword or a wager : 
so that the only genteel method of dissenting is 
to risk a thousand pounds, or take yoiu' chance 
of being run through the body. The strange 
custom of deciding every thing by a wager is so 
universal, that if (in imitation of Swift) any 
body was to publish a specimen of Polite Con- 
versation, instead of old sayings and tiite repar- 
tees, he would in all probability fiU his dialogues 
with little more than bet after bet, and now or 
then a calculation of the odds. 

White's, the present grand scene of these 
transactions, was formerly distinguished by gal- 
lantry and intrigue. Diuing the publication of 
the Tatler, Sir Richard Steele thought proper 
to date all his love news from that quarter : but 
it would now be as absmd to pretend to gather 
any such intelligence from White's, as to send 
to Batson's for a lawyer, or to the Roll's coffee- 
house for a man-midwife. 

The gentlemen who now frequent this place, 
E 



26 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 15. 



profess a kind of universal scepticism : and ;i.s 
they look upon every thing as dubious, put the 
issue upon a wager. There is nothing however 
trivial or ridiculous, which is not capable of pro- 
ducing a bet. Many pounds have been lost upon 
the colour of a coach-horse, an article in the 
news, or the change of the weather. The birth 
of a child has brought great advantages to 
persons not in the least related to the family it 
was born in ; and the breaking off a match has 
affected many in their fortunes, besides the par- 
ties immediately concerned. 

But the most extraordinary' part of this fash- 
ionable practice is, what in the gaming dialect is 
called pitting one man against another ; that is, 
in plain English, wagering which of the two 
will live longest. In this manner, people of the 
most opposite chai'acters make up the subject of 
a bet. A player, perhaps, is pitted against a 
duke, an alderman against a bishop, or a pimp 
with a privy-counsellor. There is scarce one re- 
mai'kable person, upon whose life there are not 
many thousand pounds depending : or one per- 
son of quality, whose death will not leave sev- 
eral of these kind of mortgages upon his estate. 
The various changes in the health of one, who is 
the subject of many bets, occasion very serious 
reflections in those, who have ventm*ed large 
sums on his life or death. Those who would be 
gainers by his decease, upon every slight indis- 
position, watch all the stages of his illness, and 
are as impatient for his death, as the imdertalcer 
who expects to have the care of his funeral ; 
while the other sides are very solicitous about 
his recovery, send every hour to know how he 
does, and take as much care of him, as a clergy- 
man's wife does of her husband, who has no 
other fortune than his living. I remember a 
man with the constitution of a porter, upon 
whose life very great odds were laid ; but when 
the person he was pitted against, was expected 
to die every week, this man shot himself through 
the head, and the knowing ones were taken in. 

Though most of our follies are imported from 
France, this has had its rise and progress entire- 
ly in England. In the last Illness of Lewis the 
Fourteenth Lord Stair laid a wager on his 
death ; and we may guess what the French 
thought of it, from the manner in which Vol- 
taire mentions it in his Steele de Louis XIV. 
' Le Roifut attaqu^ vers le milieu du mois d'Aout. 
Le Conite de Stair, ambassadeur d' Angleterre, 
paria, selon le genie de sa nation, que le Roi ne 
])asseroit pas le mois de Septenibre.' * The King,' 
says he, * was taken ill about the middle of Au- 
gust ; when Lord Stair, the ambassador from 
England, betted according to the genius of his 
nation, that the Kirig would not live beyond 
September.' 

1 am in some pain, lest this custom should get 
among the ladies. They are at present vci-y 
deep In cards and dice ; and while my lord is 



gaming abroad her ladyship has her rout at 
home. I am inclined to suspect, tliat our wo- 
men of fashion will also learn to divert them- 
selves with this polite practice of laying wagers. 
A birth-day suit, the age of a beauty, who in- 
vented a particular fashion, or who were sup- 
posed to be together at the last masquerade, 
would frequently give occasion for bets. This 
would also affoi'd them a new method for the 
ready propagation of scandal : as the truth of 
several stories, which are continually flying 
about the town, would naturally be brought to 
the same test. Should they proceed further to 
stake the lives of their acquaintance against each 
other, they would doubtless bet with the same 
fearless spirit, as they are known to do at brag : 
the husband of one would perhaps be pitted 
against the gallant of another, or a woman of 
the town against a maid of honour. And, per- 
haps, if this practice should once become fash- 
ionable among the ladies, we may soon see the 
time, when an allowance for bet-money will be 
stipulated in the marriage articles. 

As the vices and follies of persons of distinc- 
tion are very apt to spread, I am also much 
afraid, lest this branch of gaming shoidd descend 
to the common people. Indeed, it seems already 
to have got among them. We have frequent ac- 
coimts in the daily papers of tradesmen riding, 
walking, eating, and drinking for a wager. The 
contested election in the city has occasioned several 
extraordinary bets : I know a butcher in Lead- 
enhall market, who laid an ox to a shin of beef, 
on the success of Sir John Barnard against the 
field ; and have been told of a publican in 
Thames-street, who ventured an hogshead of 
entire butt, on the candidate who serves him 
with beer. 

We may observe, that the spirit of gaming dis- 
plays itself with as much variety among the 
lowest as the highest order of people. It is the 
same thing whether the dice rattle in an orange 
barrow or at the hazard-table. A couple of 
chairmen in a night cellar are as eager at put or 
aU-fours, as a party at St. James's at a rubber 
of whist ; and the E O table is but a higher 
sort of INIerry-go-round, where you may get six 
half pence for one, sixpence for one, and six two- 
pences for one. If the practice of pitting should 
be also propagated among the vulgar, it will be 
common for prize fighters to stake their lives 
against each other ; and two pickpockets may lay 
which of them shall first go to the gallows. 

To give the reader a full idea of a person of 
fashion wholly employed in this manner, I shall 
conclude my paper with the character of Mon- 
tano. Montano was born heir to a nobleman, 
remarkable for deep play, from whom he very 
early imbibed the principles of gaming. When 
he first went to school, he soon became themost 
expert of any of his play-fellows, he was sure to 
win all their marbh's at taw, and would often 



Na 16.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



27 



strip them of their whole week's allowance at 
chuck. He was afterwards at the head of every 
match of football or cricket ; and when he was 
captain, he took in all the big boys by making a 
lottery, but went away without drawing the 
prizes. He is still talked of at the school, for a 
famous dispute he had with another of his own 
cast about their superiority in learning ; which 
they decided by tossing up heads or tails who 
^¥as the best scholar. Being too great a genius 
for our universities at home, he was sent abroad 
on his travels, but never got fiu'ther than Paris ; 
where having lost a considerable bet of four to 
one concerning the taking a town in Flanders, 
he was obliged to come back with a few guineas 
he borrowed to bring him over. Here he soon 
became universally known by frequenting every 
gaming-table, and attending every horse-race in 
the kingdom. He first reduced betting into an 
art, and made White's the gi'and market for 
wagers. He is at length such an adept in this 
art, that whatever turn things take, he can 
never lose. This he has effected, by what he has 
taught the world to call hedging a bet. Thei'e 
is scarce a contested election in the kingdom, 
whicli will not end to his advantage ; and he has 
lately sent over commissions to Paris to take up 
bets on the recall of the parliament. He was 
the first that struck out the above-mentioned 
practice of pitting ; in which he is so thoroughly 
versed, that the death of every person of quality 
may be said to bring him a legacy : and he has 
so contrived the bets on his own life, that (live 
or die) the odds are in his favovu'. O. 



No. 16.] Thursday, May 16, 1754. 



AUius omnetn 



Expediam prima repetens ab originefamam. Virg. 

I'll trace the current upwards, as it flows, 
And mark the secret spring, whence first it rose. 

TO MR. TOWN. 

Sir, Oxford, May 12, 1754. 

Your last week's paper, on the subject of bets, 
put me in mind of an extract I lately met with 
in some newspapers, fi'om the " Life of Pope 
Sixtus V. translated from the Italian of Gre- 
gorio Leti by the Reverend Mr. Farnworth." 
The passage is as follows : 

It was reported in Rome, that Drake had 
taken and plundered St. Domingo in Hispaniola, 
and carried off an immense booty. This account 
came in a private letter to Paul Secchi, a very 
considerable merchant in the city, who had large 
concerns in those parts, which he had insured. 
Upon receiving this news, he sent for the insurer 
Samson Ceneda, a Jew, and acquainted him 
witb i*:. The Jew, whose interest it was 



have such a report thought false, gave many rea- 
sons why it could not possibly be true ; and at 
last worked himself up into such a passion, that 
he said, I'll lay you a pound of my flesh it is a 
lie. Secchi, who was of a fiery hot temper, re- 
plied, I'll lay you a thousand crowns against a 
pound of your flesh, that it is true. The Jew ac- 
cepted the wager, and articles were immediately 
executed betwixt them, That if Secchi won, he 
should himself cut the flesh with a sharp knife 
from Avhatcver part of the Jew's body he pleas- 
ed. The truth of the account was soon con- 
firmed ; and the Jew was almost distracted, 
when he was informed, that Secchi had solemnly 
sworn he would compel him to the exact literal 
performance of his conti*act. A report of this 
transaction was brought to the Pope, who sent 
for the parties, and being informed of the whole 
affair, said " When contracts are made, it is just 
they should be fulfilled, as this shall. Take a 
knife therefore, Secchi, and cut a pound of flesh 
from any part you please of the Jew's body. 
We advise you, however, to be very careful ; for 
if you cut but a scruple more or less than yoiu* 
due, you shall certainly be hanged." 

What induced me to trouble you with this, is 
a remark made by the editor, that the scene be- 
tween Shylock and Antonio in the Merchant of 
Venice is borrowed from this story." I should 
perhaps have acquiesced in this notion, if I had 
not seen a note in the " ObserA^ations on Spen- 
ser's Faerie Queene, by Mr. T. Warton of 
Trinity College," where he seems to have dis- 
covered the real source from which Shakspeare 
di'ew his fable, which (he informs us) is found- 
ed upon an ancient ballad. The admirei's of 
Shakspeare are obliged to him for this curious 
discovery ; but as Mr. Warton has only given 
some extracts, they would undoubtedly be glad 
to see the whole. This baUad is most probably 
no where to be met with but in the Ashmolean 
Museum in this University, where it was de- 
posited by that famous antiquary Anthony a 
Wood : I have therefore sent you a faithfid 
transcript of it ; and you must agree with me, 
that it Avould do you more credit, as a Connois- 
seur to draw this hidden treasure into light, 
than if you had discovered an Otho or a Niger. 

A SONG. 

Showing the crueltie of Gernutus a Jew, who 
lending to a merchant an hundi-ed crownes, 
would have a pound of his fleshe because he 
could not pay him at the time api>ointed. 

In Venice town not long agoe, 

A cruel Jew did dwell. 
Which lived all on usurie. 

As Italian writers tell. 
Gernutus called was the Jew, 

Which never thought to die. 
Nor never yet did any good 

To them in streets that lye. 



28 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 16 



His life was like a barrow hogge. 

That liveth many a day. 
Yet never once doth any good. 

Until men will him slay. 

Or like a filthy heap of dung. 

That lyeth in a hoord ; 
Which never can do any gooi^ 

Till it be spread abroad. 

So fares it with this usurer. 

He cannot sleep in rest. 
For feare the theefe doth him pursue 

To pluck him from his nest. 

His heart doth think on many a wile. 
How to deceive the poore ; 

His mouth is almost full of mucke. 
Yet still he gapes for more. 

His wife must lend a shilling, 

For every weeke a penny. 
Yet bring a pledge that's double worth; 

If that you will have any. 

And see (likewise) you keep your day. 

Or else you lose it all : 
This was the living of his wife. 

Her cow she doth it call. 

Within that citie dwelt that time 
A merchant of great fame. 

Which being distressed, in his need 
Unto Gernutus came. 

Desiring him to stand his friend. 
For twelve moneth and a day. 

To lend to him a hundred crownes. 
And he for it would pay. 

Whatsoever he would demand of him 
And pledges he should have : 

No, (qd. the Jew with fleering looker) 
Sir, aske what you will have. 

No penny for the loane of it 
For one yeere you shall pay ; 

You may do me as good a turne. 
Before my dyii>g day. 

But we will have a merry jeast 

For to be talked long : 
You shall make me a bond (quoth he) 

That shall be large and strong. 

And this shall be the forfeiture, 
Of your owne fleshe a pound. 

If you agree, make you the bond. 
And here's a hundred crownes. 



The second part of the Jew's crueltic ; setting 
forth the mercifulnessc of the Judge towai-ds 
the Merchant. 

With right good will the merchant said. 

And so the bond was made. 
When twelve months and a day drew on 

That back it should be payd. 

The merchants ships were all at sea, 

And money came not in ; 
Which way to take, or what to doc, 

To thinke he doth begin. 



And to Gemutus straight he comes 

With cap and bended knee. 
And sayd to him of curtesie 

I pray you bear with mc. 

My day is come, and I have not 

The money for to pay : 
And little good the forfeiture 

Will doe you I dare say. 

With all my heart, Gemutus said 

Command it to your minde : 
In things of bigger weight than this 

You shall mc readie finde. 

He goes his way ; the day once past 

Gernutus doth not slacke 
To get a Serjeant presentlie, 

And clapt him on the backe. 

And layd him into prison strong. 

And sued his bond withall ; 
And when the judgment day was come. 

For judgment he doth call. 

The merchant's friends came thither fast. 

With many a weeping eye. 
For other means they could not find, 

But he that day must dye. 

Some offered for his hundred crownes 

Five hundred for to pay j 
And some a thousand, two or three. 

Yet still he did denay. 

And at the last, ten thousand crownes 

They offered him to save, 
Gernutus said, I will no gold. 

My forfeit I will have. 

A pound of flesh is my demand. 

And that shall be my hyre. 
Then said the judge, yet my good friend 

Let me of you desire. 

To take the fleshe from such a place 

As yet you let him live ; 
Doe so, and lo a hundred crowncj. 

To thee here will I give. 

No, no, quoth he, no judgment here 

For this it shall be tryde, 
For I will have my pound of fleshe 

From under his right sid& 

It grieved all the companic. 

His crueltie to sec ; 
For neither friend nor foe could help 

But he must spoiled bee. 

The bloudie Jew now ready is 

With whetcd blade in hand 
To spoyle the blood of innocent, 

By forfeit of his bond. 

And as he was about to strike 

In him the deadly blow : 
Stay (quoth the Judge) thy crueltic 

I charge thee to do so. 

Sith needs thou wilt thy forfeit have 

Which is of fleshe a {wund : 
See that thou shed no drop of blood. 

Nor yet the man confound. 



No. 17.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



20 



For if thou doe, like murtherer. 

Thou here shalt hanged be : 
Likewise of fleshe see that thou cut 

No more than 'longs, to thee. 

For if thou take either more or lesse. 

To the value of a mite, 
Thou shalt be hanged presently 

As is both law and right. 

Gemutus now waxt frantic mad. 

And wotes not what to say : 
Quoth he at last, ten thousand crownes 

I will that he shall pay. 

And so I grant to set him free : 

The Judge doth answer make. 
You shaU not'have a penny given. 

Your forfeiture now take. 

At the last he doth demand, 

But for to have his own : 
No, quoth the Judge, do as you list. 

Thy judgment shall be showne. 

Either take your pound of fleshe (qd. he) 

Or cancell me your bond, 
O cruel Judge, then quoth the Jew, 

That doth against me stand ! 

And so with griped grieved minde 

He biddeth them farewell : 
All the people prays 'd the Lord 

That ever this heard tell 

Good people that do hear this song. 

For truth I dare well say, 
That many a wretch as ill as he 

Doth live now at this day. 

That seeketh nothing but the spoylc 

Of many awealthie man. 
And for to trap the innocent, 

Deviseth what they can. 

From whom the Lord deliver me. 

And every christian too. 
And send to them like sentence eke, 
That meaneth so to doo. 
Printed at LoMon by E. P. for J. Wright, dwelling in 
Gtlt^urstreet. 

It will be proper to subjoin what the ingeni- 
ous Mr. Warton has obsei^ed upon this sub- 
ject : — i" It maybe objected," says he, " that this 
ballad might have been written after, and copied 
from Shakspeare's play. But if that had been 
the case, it is most likely, that the author would 
have preserved Shak^eare's name of Shylock 
for the Jew ; and nothing is more likely, than 
that Shakspeare, in copying from this ballad, 
should alter the name from Gernutus to one 
more Jewish. Another argument is, that our 
ballad has the air of a narrative written before 
Shakspeare's play ; I mean, that if it had been 
written after the play, it would have been much 
more full and circumstantial. At present, it 
has too much the nakedness of an original." 

It would, indeed, be absm-d to think, that 
this ballad was taken from Shakspeare's play, 
as they differ in the most essential circumstances. 
The sum borrowed is in the former a hundred 



crowns, in the latter thi'ee thousand ducats : the 
time limited for payment in the one is only thi-ee 
months, in the other a year and a day : in the 
play the merchant's motive for borrowing 
(which is finely imagined by Shakspeare, and is 
conducive to the general plot,) is not on accoimt 
of his own necessities, but for the service of his 
fi'iend. To these we may add, that the close of 
the story is finely heightened by Shakspeare. A 
mere copyist, such as we may suppose a baUad- 
maker, would not have given himself the trouble 
to alter circumstances : at least he would not 
have changed them so much for the worse. But 
this matter seems to be placed out of all doubt 
by the first stanza of the baUad, which informs 
us, that the story was taken from some Italian 
novel. " This much therefore is certain (as Mr. 
IVarton observes,) that Shakspeare either copied 
from that Italian novel, or from this ballad. 
Now we have no translation, I presume, of 
such a novel into English. If then it be grant- 
ed, that Shakspeare genei'ally took his Italian 
stories from their English translations, and that 
the arguments above, concerning the prior anti- 
quity in this ballad, are true, it will follow, that 
Shakspeare copied from this baUad. " 

Upon the whole, it is very likely, that the 
Italian novel, upon which this ballad seems 
founded, took its I'ise (with an inversion af the 
circumstances) fi'om the above-mentioned story 
in the " Life of Pope Sixtus V." the memory of 
which must have been then recent. I should 
be glad if. any of your readers can give any fiu-- 
ther light into this affair, and if possible, ac- 
quaint the public from whence Shakspeare bor- 
I'owed the other part of this fable concerning 
Portia and the caskets ; which, it is more than 
probable, is drawn fi-om some other novel well 
known in liis time. 

I cannot conclude without remarking, with 
what art and judgment Shakspeare has wove 
together these different stories of the Jew and 
the caskets ; from both which he has formed 
one general fable, without having recourse to the 
stale artifice of ekeing out a barren subject with 
impertinent underplots. 
I am, Sir, 
T. Your humble Servant, &c. 



».**<.*•«.*■»/». ***^'*^'' 



No. 17.] Thursday, May 23, 1754. 



Pattlo plus artis Athetur. 



Hon. 



Scarce more with Athens Science chose to dwell. 
Or Grecian poets Grub-street bards excel. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



Though many historians have described the city 
of London (in which we may include West- 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 17. 



minster) with great accuracy, yet they have not 
set it out in the full light, which at present it 
deserves : they have not distinguished it as a 
University. Paris is a University, Dublin is a 
Univei'sity, even Moscow is a University ; but 
London has not yet been honoured with that 
title. I will allow our metropolis to have been 
intended, originally, only as a city of trade ; 
and I will further own, that scarce any sciences, 
except such as were purely mercantile, were 
cultivated in it, till within these last thirty 
years. But from that period of time, I may 
say a whole army, as it were, of arts and sci- 
ences have amicably mai-ched in upon us, and 
have fixed themselves as auxUiai-ies to our 
capital. 

The four greater faculties, I mean Theology, 
Law, Medicine, and Philosophy, which are 
taught in other universities, are in their highest 
perfection here. The prosperity of the first may 
be seen by the crowded churches every Sunday, 
and the discipline of the second by the number- 
less young students, who constantly dine in their 
respective halls at the several inns of covu't. 
These two faculties have of late received con- 
siderable improvements, but particularly that of 
Theology ; as is manifest from several new and 
astonishing opinions, which have been started 
among us. There have risen, within these few 
years, very numerous tribes of Methodists, Mo- 
ravians, Middletonians, Muggletonians, Hut- 
chinsonians, 85c. In a word, our sects are multi- 
plied to such an infinite degree, that (as Voltaire 
has before observed) " every man may now go to 
heaven his own way." Can the divinity-schools 
boast such sound doctrine as the Foundery in 
Moorfields ? Or were ever Fellows of Colleges 
such adepts in matrimony, as the reverend Doc- 
tors of the Fleet, or the Primate of May- Fair ? 

The theory of Medicine may undoubtedly be 
taught at Oxford and Cambridge in a tolerable 
manner ; but the art itself can only be learned, 
where it flourishes, at London. Do not our 
daily papers give us a longer list of medicines, 
than are contained in any of the dispensatories ? 
And are we not constantly told of surprising 
antidotes, certain cures, and never-failing reme- 
dies for every complaint ? And are not each of 
these specifics equally efficacious in one distemper 
as another, from the Grand Restorative Elixir 
of Life down to the Infallible Corn- Salve, as 
thousands have experienced ? With what plea- 
sure and admiration have I beheld the Machaon 
of 'OUT times. Dr. Richard Rock, dispensing 
from his one-horse chaise his Cathartic Anti- 
venereal Electuary, his Itch-powder, and his 
Quintessence of Vipers! It may be{i8ked,-is he 
a Graduate ? Is he a Regular Physician ? No, 
he is superior to Regularity. He despises the 
formality of Academical Dcgi'ecs. He styles 
himself M. L. He is a London Physician^ or 



as Moliere would express it, Cest un Medidn de 
Londiies. 

After Medicine let us consider Logic. How 
is that most useful art taught in the two Uni- 
versities ? Is it not clogged with such barba- 
rous terms, as tend to puzzle and confound 
rather than enlighten or direct the imderstand- 
ing ? Is it not taught in a dead, I had almost 
said, in a Popish tongue? Is it not oven-un 
with dry distinctions and useless subtleties? 
Where then is it to be learned in all the purity 
of reason, and the dignity of language ? Neither 
at Oxford nor at Cambridge, but at the Robin 
Hood Alehouse in Butcher row near Temple 
Bar. 

From Logic let us proceed to Elo<iuence : and 
let us ingenuously confess, that neither of our 
Universities can boast an orator equal to the re- 
nowned Henley. Has he not all the qualifica- 
tions required by Tully in a complete orator ? 
Has he not been followed by the greatest men of 
the nation? Yet has this modest divine never 
derived any title to himself from his own rhe- 
toric, except such a one as his extraordinary elo- 
cution natm-aUy bestowed upon him. ]Might he 
not have called himself President of the 
Butchers? Dean of Marrow-bones and Clea^ 
vers? or Warden of Clare- Market? Certainly he 
might. Therefore, if it were for his sake only, 
in my humble opinion, London ought imme- 
diately to assume the title of a University ; and 
the butchers of Clare-Market, who have so 
constantly attended Mr. Henley's Lectmes, 
ought to be presented with honorary degrees. 

I know not what pretensions the Universities 
may have had originally to adopt Music among 
the rest of their sciences : perhaps they have 
assumed a right of bestowing degrees in Music, 
fi-om their being called the seats of the Muses j 
as it is well known, that ApoUo was a fiddler, 
as weU as a poet and a physician : and the 
Muses are said to have delighted in fiddling and 
piping. The young students, I am told, of either 
University are more ambitious to excel in this 
science than any other, and spend most of theii- 
time in the study of the gamut : but their 
knowledge in harmonics is seldom carried fur- 
ther than I love Sue, or Ally Crokcr. In this 
point London Jias undoubtedly a better title to 
be called a Universit)'. Did Oxford or Cam- 
bridge ever produce an opera, though they have 
the advantage of languages so very little known, 
as the Greek and even Hebrew, to compose in? 
Had ever any of their professors the least idea of 
a bvu'letta ? Or are any of their most sublime 
anthems half so ravishing as Foote's Minuet 
from the hand organ of the little Savoyard 
Dutchess ? Are those classical instnmients, the 
Doric lute, the syrinx, or tlu; fistula, to ho com- 
pared to the melody ol" the wooden spoons, the 
Jew's-harp, and salt-box, at Mr. Midnight's? 



No. 18,] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



31 



But there are no doctrines more forcibly in- 
culcated among us than those of Ethics, or 
Moral Philosophy. What are the precepts of 
Plato, -Epictetus, or Tully, in comparison to 
the moral lessons delivered by our periodical 
\vTiters ? And are not you, Mr. Town, a wiser 
man than Socrates? But the age is more par- 
ticularly indebted, for its present universal 
piu'ity of manners, to those excellent rules for 
the conduct of life contained in our modern 
novels. From these moral works might be 
compiled an entire new system of Ethics, far 
superior to the exploded notions of musty acade- 
mies, and adapted to the practice of the present 
times. Cato, we are told, commended a young 
man whom he saw coming out of the public 
stews, because he imagined it might preserve 
him from the crime of adultery ; and the Spar- 
tans used to make their slaves drunk in the pre- 
sence of their youth, that they might be deterred 
from the like debaucheries. For the same rea- 
sons, we may suppose, that our tavei'ns and 
bagnios are so much frequented by oui* young 
people ; and in this light we may fairly consider 
them as so many Schools of Moral Philosophy. 

If we are willing to turn our thoughts to- 
wards Experimental Philosophy, can the several 
Universities of the whole world produce such a 
variety of instruments, so judiciously collected, 
for astronomical, geographical, and all other sci- 
entific observations, as are to be seen in the two 
amazing repositories of Mr. Professor Deard in 
the Strand, and of Mr. Professor Russell at 
Charing- Cross? It were endless to enumerate 
particulars ; but I cannot help taking notice of 
those elegant little portable telescopes, that are 
made use of in all public places ; by which it is 
evident that even our fine ladies and gentlemen 
are become proficients in optics. 

The Universities seem to pride themselves 
greatly on their choice collections of curious and 
invaluable trifles, which are there preserved, only 
because they were not thought worth preserving 
any where else. But is the Ashmolean Collec- 
tion of rarities comparable to the Nicknackatory 
of Mr. Pinchbeck ? Or are any of their muse- 
ums stored with such precious curiosities, as are 
frequently seen in Mr. Langford's auction 
room ? Strangers, who think it worth while to 
go as far as Oxford or Cambridge to see sights, 
may surely meet with as much satisfaction at 
London. Are the two little pigmies, striking a 
clock at Carfax in Oxford, with any degree of 
comparison with the two noble giants at St. 
Dunstan's church in Fleet-sti'eet ; to say nothing 
of their enormous brethren at Guildhall ? Are 
any of the college halls in either of the Univer- 
sities, so magnificent as those belonging to our 
worshipful companies ? Oi' can the Theatre at 
Oxford, or the Senate-house at Cambridge, vie 
with that stupendous piece of architecture the 
iVIansi on- House, set apart for our Chancellor 



the Lord Mayor ? It may be alleged, perliaps, 
that these are trifling examples of superiority, 
which the younger sister bears over her two 
elder: but at the same time, it cannot be denied, 
that she excels them both even in the minutiae of 
learning and antiquity. 

We must confess, that ^^ Hydraulics, or the 
motion of fluids, seem to be taught exactly in 
the same manner, and with the same degree of 
knowledge, in London as in Oxford or Cam- 
bridge. The glass tubes, and the syphons, are 
fonned very much in the same shape and fashion. 
The great hydrostatical law, " That all fluids 
gravitate injyroprio loco," is proved by the same 
kind of experiments. The several students, of 
whatever age or station, vie with each other in 
an unweai'ied application, and a constant attend- 
ance to this branch of mixed mathematics. The 
Professors, in each of the thi'ee Universities, 
are confessedly very great men ; but I hope I 
may be forgiven, if I wish to see my friend Mr. 
Ryan, President of the King's Arms in Pall- 
Mail, unanimously declared Vice- Chancellor of 
the University of London. 
I am, Sir, 

Your humble Servant, 

T. G. K. 

No. 18.] Thursday, May 30, 1754. 



NihU estfuracius illo : 



Nonfuit Antolyci tarn piceata manus. 



Mart. 



Could he have filch 'd but half so sly as thee, 
Crook-fingcr'd Jack had 'scaped the triple tree. 

An information was the other day laid before a 
magistrate by a FeUow of the Society of Anti- 
quarians, against one of his brethren for a rob- 
bery. The prosecutor deposed upon oath, that 
the other had called upon him to see his collec- 
tion of medals, and took an opporttmity of steal- 
ing a leathern purse, formerly belonging to the 
celebrated Tom Hearne, in which were contain- 
ed, (besides an antique piece of copper-money, 
place, date, name, figure, and value unknown) 
a pair of breeches of Oliver Cromwell, a denarius 
of Trajan worth fifty shillings, and a Queen 
Anne's farthing value five pounds. He was 
with much ado dissuaded fi'om can'ying on his 
suit ; as the magistrate convinced him, that 
however highly he might rate his own treasures, 
a jury, who were no Virtuosos, would consider a 
farthing merely as a farthing, and look upon a 
copper coin of a Roman emperor as no better 
than a King George's halfpenny. 

I cannot, indeed, without great concern, as a 
Connoisseur, reflect on the known dishonesty of 
my learned brethren. Their scandalous prac- 
tices, wherever their darling passion is interest- 



32 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 18. 



ed, arc too notorious to be denied. The moment 
they conceive a love for rarities, and antiques, 
their strict notions of honour disappear : and 
Taste, the more it establishes their veneration 
for Virtu, the more certainly destroys their in- 
tegrity : as nist enhances the value of an old 
coin, by eating up the figure and inscription. 

Most people are masters of a kind of logic, by 
which they argue their consciences to sleep, and 
acquit themselves of doing what is wrong. The 
coimtry squire of confinned honesty in all other 
respects, thinks it very fair to over-reach you in 
the sale of a horse ; and the man of pleasure, 
who would scorn to pick youi- pocket, or stop 
you on the road, regards it rather as gallantry 
than baseness, to intrigue with your wife or 
daughter. In the same manner the Virtuoso 
does not look on his thefts as real acts of felony j 
but while he owns that he would take any pains 
to steal an old rusty piece of brass, boasts that 
you may safely trust him with untold gold : 
though he woidd break open your cabinet for a 
shell or butterfly, he would not attempt to force 
j'our escritoire or your strong box : nor woxxld 
he offer the least violence to your wife or 
daughter, though perhaps he would run away 
with the little finger of the Venus de Medicis. 
Upon these principles he proceeds, and lays hold 
of all opportunities to increase his collection of 
rarities : and as Mahomet established his religion 
by the sword, the Connoisseur enlarges his mu- 
seum, and adds to his store of knowledge, by 
fraud and petty larceny. 

If the libraries and cabinets of the cm-ious 
were, like the daw in the fable, to be stripped of 
their borrowed ornaments, we should in many 
see nothing but bare shelves and empty drawers. 
I know a medalist, Avho at fii'st set up with lit- 
tle more than a paltry series of English coins 
since the Reformation, which he had the good 
luck to pick up at their intrinsic value. By a 
pliant use of his fingers, he became soon pos- 
sessed of most of the Traders ; and by the same 
slight of hand, he, in a short time after, made 
himself master of a gi-eat part of the Cresars. 
He was once taken up for coining ; a forge, a 
crucible, and several dies being fovmd in his 
cellar : but he was acquitted, as there was no law 
which made it high treason to countei'feit the 
image of a Tiberius or a Nero ; and the coin which 
he imitated, was current only among Virtuosos. 
I remember another, who piqued himself on 
his collection of scarce editions and original 
manuscripts, most of which he had purloined 
fi'om the libraries of others. He was continually 
borrowing books of his acquaintance, with a re- 
solution never to return them. He would send 
ia a great hurry for a particular edition which 
Ik; wanted to consult only iov a moment ; but 
when it was asked for again, he was not at home, 
or he had lent it to another, or he had lost it, or 
he could not find it, and sometimes he would 



not scruple to swear, that he had himself deliv- 
ered it into the owner's hands. He woidd fre- 
quently spoil a set by stealing a volume, and 
then purchase the rest for a trifle. After his 
death his library was sold by auction ; and many 
of his friends were obliged to buy up theii* own 
books again at an exorbitant price. 

A thorough-bred Virtuoso will surmount all 
scruples of conscience, or encounter any danger 
to serve his purpose. Most of them are chiefly 
attached to some particulai" branch of know- 
ledge ; but I remember one, who was passionate- 
ly fond of every part of Virtu. At one time, 
when he could find no other way of carrj'ing off 
a medal, he ran the risk of being choked by 
swallowing it j and at another, broke his leg in 
scaling a garden wall for a tulip root. But no- 
thing gave him so much trouble and diflficulty 
as the taking away pictm*es and ancient mar- 
bles ; which being heavy and unwieldy, he often 
endangered his life to gratify his curiosity. He 
was once locked up all night in the Duke of 
Tuscany's gallery, where he took out an original 
painting of Raphael, and dexterously placed a 
copy of it in the fi'ame. At Venice he turned 
Roman Catholic, and became a Jesuit, in order 
to get admittance into a convent, from whence 
he stole a fine head of Ignatius Loyolo ; and at 
Constantinople he had almost formed the reso- 
lution of qualifying himself for the Seraglio, that 
he might find means to carry off a picture of the 
Grand Signior's chief mistress. 

The genei'al dishonesty of Connoisseurs is in- 
deed so weU known, that the sti-ictest precaution 
is taken to guard against it. Medals are secured 
under lock and key, pictures screwed to the 
walls, and books chained to the shelves ; yet ca- 
binets, galleries, and libraries are continually 
plundered. Many of the maimed statues at 
Rome pei'haps owe their present ruinous con- 
dition to the depradations made on them by Vir- 
tuosos : the head of Henry the Fifth, in West- 
minster-Abbey was in all probability stolen by 
a Connoisseur ; and I know one who has at dif- 
ferent times pilfered a gi'cat part of Queen Ca- 
therine's bones, and hopes in a little while io be 
master of the whole skeleton. This gentleman 
has been detected in so many little thefts, that 
he has for several years past been refused ad- 
mittance into the museums of the curious ; and 
he is lately gone abroad with a design upon the 
ancient Greek manuscripts discovered at Her- 
culaneum. 

It may seem siu'prising, that these gentlemen 
should have been hitherto suffered to esc.ipe un- 
punished for their repeated thefts ; and that a 
Virtuoso, who robs you of an unique of inesti- 
mable value, should even glory in the action, 
while a poor dog, who picks your pocket of six- 
pence, shall be hanged for it. What a shock- 
ing disgrace would be brought tipon taste, should 
wc ever see the dying speech, confession, and be- 



No. 19.3 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



3$^ 



haviour of a Connoisseur, related in the account 
of malefactors by the Ordinary of Newgate ! 
Such an accident would doubtless bring the 
study of Vu"tii into still more contempt among 
the ignorant, when they found that it only 
brought a man to the gallows ; as the country 
fellow, when he saw an attorney staad in the 
pillory, for foi'gery, shook his head and cried, 
" Ay, this comes of your writing and reading." 
It were perhaps worthy the consideration of th* 
legislature to devise some punishment for these 
offenders which should bear some analogy with 
their crimes : and as common malefactors ai"e 
delivered to the surgeons to be anatomized, I 
would propose, that a Connoisseur should be 
made into a mummy, and preserved in the haU 
of the Royal Society, for the terror and admi- 
I'ation of his brethren. 

I shall conclude this paper with the relation 
of a circumstance, which feU within my own 
knowledge when I was abi'oad, and in which I 
declined a glorious opportunity of signalizing 
nayself as a Connoisseur. While I was at 
Rome, a young physician of oiu' party, who was 
e^ten up w^ith Virtu, made a serious proposal to 
us of breaking into one of the churches by night, 
and taking away a famous piece of painting 
over the altar. As I had not quite taste enough 
to come at once into his scheme, I could not 
help objecting to him, that it was a robbery. 
Poh, says he, it is a most exquisite picture. — 
Ay, but it is not only a robbery, but sacrilege. — 
Oh it is a most charming piece ! — Zounds, 
doctor, but if we sliould be taken, we shall ?ijl 
be broke upon the wheel.— .Then, s?Jd he, we 
sliall die martyrs. 

T. 



No. 19.] Thursday, June 6, 1754. 



Posccntes vario mvlthm diversa pal'ato. HoR. 

How very ill our different tastes agree. 
This will have beef, and that a fricassee. 

I HAVE selected the following letters from a 
great number, which I have lately been favoured 
with from unknown correspondents : and as 
they both relate nearly to the same subject, I 
shall without further preface submit them to 
the public. 

Sir, 
"When you was got into White's, I was in 
hopes that you would not have confined your- 
self merely to the gaming-table, but have given 
us an accoimt of the entertainment at their or- 
dinaries. A bill of fare from thence would have 
been full as diverting to your readers as the laws 
of the game, or a list of their bets. These gen- 
tlemen, we are told, are no less adepts in the 



science of eating than of gaming ; and as'Hoyle 
has reduced the latter into a new and complete 
system, I could wish that their cook, (who to 
be sure is a FrenGhman) would also oblige the 
world by a treatise on the ai't and mystery of 
sauces. 

Indeed, Mr. Town, it surprises me, that you 
have so long neglected to make some reflections 
on the diet of this great city. Dr. Martin Lis- 
ter, v/ho was universally allowed to be a great 
Connoisseur, and published several learned trea- 
tises upon cockle shells, did not think it beneath 
him to comment on the works of Apicius Cseli- 
us, who had coEected together many valuable 
receipts in cookery, as practised by the Romans. 
If you would preserve your papers from the in- 
dignity of covering breasts of veal, or wrapping 
up cutkts a la Maintenon, I would advise you to 
lard tl:iem now and then with the ragouts o^ 
Heliogabalus, or a parallel between our modern 
soups and the Lacedaemonian black broth. 
Your works might then be universally read, 
from the mistress in the parlour down to the 
cookmaid and scullion. 

It is absolutely necessary for people of all 
tempers, complexions, persuasions, habits, and 
stations of life, however they may differ in other 
particulars, to concur in the grand ai'ticle of 
eating. And as the hujpaours of the body arise 
from the food we take in, the dispositions of the 
mind seem to bear an equal resemblance to our 
places of I'efreshment. You have already taken 
a review of our several coffee-houses; and I 
wish you would proceed to delineate the differ- 
ent characters, that are to be found in oui' 
tavei'ns and chop-houses. A friend of mine 
always judges of a man of taste and fashion, by 
asking, who is his peruke-maker or his tailor ? 
Upon the same principles, when I would forni 
a just opinion of any man's temper and inclina- 
tions, I always inquire, where does he dine ? 

The difference between the taverns near St. 
James's, and those about the 'Change, consist 
not so much in the costliness as the substance 
of their viands. The round-bellied alderman, 
who breathes the foggy air of the city, requires 
a more solid diet than the light kickshaws of 
our meagi-e persons of quality. My lord, or Sir 
John, after havmg whiled away an hour or two 
in the parliament-house, drive to the Star and 
Garter to regale on macaroni, or piddle with an 
ortolan ; while the merchant, who has plodded 
all the morning in the Alley, sits down to a 
turtle-feast at the Crown or the King's Arms, 
and crams himself with calipash and calipee. 
As the city taverns are appropriated to men of 
business, who drive bargains for thousands over 
their morning's gill, the taverns about the court 
are generally filled with an insipid race of mor- 
tals, who have nothing to do. Among these you 
may see most of oiu" young men of fashion, and 
young ofl&cers of the guards, who meet at these 
F 



84> 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 19. 



places to show the elegance of their taste by the 
expensiveness of their dinner : and many an en- 
sign, with scarce any income but his commission, 
prides himself on keeping the best company, and 
often throws doAvn more than a week's pay for 
his reckoning ; though at other times it obliges 
him, with several of his brethren upon half pay, 
to dine with Duke Humphry in St. James's 
park. 

The taverns about the purlieus of Covent- 
Garden are dedicated to Venus, as well as Ceres 
and Liber ; and you may frequently see the 
jolly messmates of both sexes go in and come out 
in couples, like the clean and unclean beasts in 
Noah's ark. These houses are equally indebted, 
for their support, to the cook, and that worthy 
personage, whom they have dignified with the 
title of Pimp. These gentlemen contrive to 
play into each other's hands. The first by his 
high soups and rich sauces prepares the way for 
the occupation of the other ; who having reduced 
the patient by a proper exercise of his art, 
returns him back again to go tkrough the same 
regimen as before. We may therefore suppose, 
that the culinary arts are no less studied here 
than at White's or Pontac's. True geniuses in 
eating will continually strike out new improve- 
ments : but I dare say, neither Braund nor Le- 
beck ever made up a more extraordinary dish, 
than I once remember at the Castle. Some 
bloods being in company with a celebrated Jille 
dejoie, one of them pulled off her shoe, and in 
excess of gallantry fiUed it with Champagne, 
and drank it off to her health. In this delicious 
draught he was immediately pledged by the rest, 
and then, to carry the compliment still farther, 
he ordei'ed the shoe itself to be dressed and ser- 
ved up for supper. The cook set himself se- 
riously to work upon it : he pulled the upper 
part (which was of damask) into fine shreds, 
and tossed it up in a ragout ; minched the sole ; 
cut the wooden heel into very thin slices, fi-ied 
them in butter, and placed them round the dish 
for garnish. The company, you may be sure, 
testified their affection for the lady by eating 
very heartily of this exquisite inijiromptu : and 
as this transaction happened just after the French 
king had taken a cobbler's daughter for his mis- 
tress, Tom Pierce (who has the style as well as 
art of a French cook) in his bill politely called it, 
in honour of her name, De Soulier a la Murphy. 

Taverns, Mr. Town, seem contrived for the 
promoting of luxury ; while the humbler chop- 
houses are designed only to satisfy the ordinary 
cravings of nature. Yet at these you may meet 
with a variety of characters. At Dolly's and 
Horseman's you commonly see the hearty lovers 
of a beef-steak andT gill ale ; and at Betty's, and 
the chop-houses about the inns of court, a pretty 
maid is as inviting as the provisions. In these 
common refectories you may always find the 
jemmy attorneys clerk, the prim curate, the 



walking physician, the captain upon half pay, 
the shabby valet de chambre upon board wages, 
and the foreign count or marquiss in dishabiUe, 
who has refused to dine with a duke or an am- 
bassador. At a little eating-house in a dark 
alley behind the 'Change, I once saw a grave 
citizen, worth a plum, order a twopenny mess 
of broth with a boiled chop in it : and when it 
was brought him, he scooped the crumb out of a 
halfpenny roll, and soaked it in the poiTidge for 
his present meal ; then carefully placing the chop 
between the upper and under crust, he wiapped 
it up in a checked handkerchief, and carried it 
off for the morrow's repast. 

I shall leave it to you. Sir, to make further 
reflections on this subject, and should be glad to 
dine with you at any tavern, dive with you into 
any cellar, take a beef-steak in Ivy-lane, a mut- 
ton chop behind St. Clement's, or (if you choose 
it) an extempore sausage or black-pudding over 
the farthing fries at Moorfields. 

Your humble Servant, 
Pye-Corner. T. Savoury. 

Mr. Town, _ ^ 

By Jove it is a shame, a burning shame, to 
see the honoui* of England, the glory of cur na- 
tion, the gi'eatest pillar of life, Rcast Beef, utter- 
ly banished from our tables. This evil, like 
many others, has been growing upon us by de- 
grees. It was begun by wickedly placing the 
beef upon a side-table, and screening it by a 
parcel of queue-taUed fellows in laced waistcoats. 
However, the odorous effluvia generally affected 
the smeU of every true Briton in the room. The 
butler was fatigued with carving : the master of 
the house grew pale, and sickened at the sight of 
those juicy collops of fat and lean, that come 
swimming in gravy, and smoking most delici- 
ously under our nostrils. Other methods, there- 
fore, were to be pursued. The beef was still 
served up, but it was brought up cold. It was 
put upon a table in the darkest part of the room, 
and immured between four walls formed artifi- 
cially by the servants with the hats of the com- 
pany. When the jellies and slip-slops were 
coming in, the beef was carried off in as secret a 
manner, as if it had gone through the ceremo- 
nies of concoction. But still. Sir, under all these 
disadvantages, we had a chance of getting a slice 
£xs it passed by. Now, alas ! it is not suffered to 
come up stairs. I dare say it is generally ba- 
nished from the steward's table ; nor do I suppose 
that the powdered footmen will touch it, for fear 
of daubing their ruffles. So that the dish that 
was served up to the royal tables, the dish <hat 
was the breakfast of Queen Elizabeth and her 
maids of honour, the dish that received the dig- 
nity of knighthood from King James the First, 
is now become the food only of scullions and 
stable-boys. In what words can I vent my re- 
sentment upon this occasicn, especially when I 



No. 20.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



35 



reflect, that innovations seldom come alone ! 
Toasted cheese is already buried in rammekins : 
plum-porridge has been long banished : I trem- 
ble for plum-pudding. May we not live to see 
a le^ of pork detested as carrion ! and a shoulder 
of mutton avoided as if it were horse-flesh ! 
Our only hopes are in the Clergy and the Beef- 
steak Club. The former still preserve, and 
probably will preser\'e the rectitude of their 
appetites ; and will do justice to beef wherever 
they find it. The latter, who are composed of 
the most ingenious artists in the kingdom, meet 
every Saturday in a noble room at the top of 
Covent Garden Theatre, and never suffer any 
dish except beef-steaks to appear. These, indeed, 
ai'e most glorious examples ; but what, alas ! 
are the weak endeavom-s of a few to oppose the 
daily inroads of fi'icassees and soup maigres ! 
This, Mr. Town, is a national concern, as it 
may prove more destructive to beef than the dis- 
temper among the horned cattle : and should the 
modish aversion against rumps and sirloins con- 
tinue, it will be absolutely necessary to enforce 
the love of beef by an act of parliament. 
Yours, 

GoLiAH English. 



No. 20.] Thursday, June 13, 1754. 



Non urnbrtE altorum nemorum, non moUia possunl 
Prat a Tnovere ammum. Virq. 

No rural charms her joyless mind can move. 
The verdant meadow or the lofty grove. 

The ladies of the present age are strangely 
altered from the unpolished females, who flou- 
rished in the days of romance. What modern 
Parthenissa would not prefer a tall yomig fellow 
to the most beautiful dwarf in the imiverse, or 
a coach and six to a white palfrey ! The fair 
damsels of old were chiefly to be found in woods 
and forests ; but our present heroines are dis- 
tinguished by an utter aversion to the country, 
and would as soon be confined by a giant in an 
enchanted castle, as immiu-ed with old maiden 
aunts in the family mansion-house. Nothing is 
more dreadful to our ladies of quality than the 
approach of summer ; for what woman of spirit 
would choose to leave the town to wander in 
solitudes and deserts ; or what pleasure can the 
long days give to our fine ladies, when the pretty 
creatures are conscious, that they look best by 
candle-light? The general complaint against 
the country is want of amusement, or want of 
company : but these common inconveniences are 
trifles in comparison to the suiFerings of the 
poor lady who wrote the following letter, which 
was communicated to me with leave to make it 
public. 



Dear Lady Chai'lotte, 

I have been plagued, pestered, teased to death, 
and hiuTied out of my wits, ever since I have 
been in this odious country. O my dear, how I 
long to be in town again ! Pope and the poets 
may talk what they will of their pmling 
streams, shady groves, and flowery meads : but 
I had rather live all my days among the cheese- 
mongers' shops in Thames-street, than pass such 
another spring in this filthy country. Would 
you believe it ? I have scarce touched a card 
since I have been here ; and then there has been 
such ado with us about election matters, that I 
am ready to die with the vapours ; such a rout 
with their hissing and hallooing, my head is 
ready to split into a thousand pieces ! If my Sir 
John must be in parliament, why cannot he do 
as your lord does, and be content with a borough, 
where he might come in without all this trouble, 
and take his seat in the house, though he has 
never been within a hundred ntules of the 
place. 

Om* house, my dear, has been a perfect inn, 
ever since we came down ; and I have been 
obliged to trudge about as much as a fat land- 
lady. Our doors are open to every dirty fellow 
in the county that is worth forty shillings a-year ; 
all my best floors are spoiled by the hobnails of 
farmers stumping about them ; every room is a 
pig-stye, and the Chinese paper in the drawing- 
room stinks so abominably of pxinchand tobacco, 
that it would strike you down to come into it. 
If you knew what I have suffered, you would 
think I had the constitution of a washer- woman 
to go through it. We never sit down to table 
without a dozen or more of boisterous two- 
legged creatiu'es as rude as bears ; and I have 
nothing to do but to heap up their plates, and 
di'ink to each of their healths. \Miat is worse 
than all, one of the beasts got tipsy, and nothing 
would serve him but he must kiss me, which I 
was forced to submit to, for fear of losing his 
vote and interest. Woxild you think it, dear 
Charlotte ?— do not laugh at me — I stood god- 
mother in person to a huge lubberly boy at a 
country farmer's, and they almost poisoned me 
with their hodge-podge they called caudle, made 
of sour ale and brown sugar. All this and 
more I have been obliged to comply with, that 
the country fellows might not say, my lady ia 
proud and above them. 

Besides, there is not a woman creature within 
twenty miles of the place, that is fit company 
for my house-keeper ; and yet I must be inti- 
mate with them all. Lady B indeed is very 

near us ; but though Ave are very well acquaint- 
ed in town, we must not be seen to speak to each 
other here, because her lord is in the opposition. 
Poor Thomas got a sad drubbing at her house, 
when I innocently sent him, at my first coming 
into the country, with a how d'ye to her lady- 
ship. The greatest female acquaintances I have 



36 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 20. 



here, are Mrs. Mayoress, a tailor's wife, and 
Mrs. Alderman Gascoigne, who sells pins and 
needles on one side of the shop, while her hus- 
band works at his pestle and mortar on the 
■other. These ordinary wretches are constant 
attendants on my tea-table : I am obliged to 
take them and their brats out an airing in my 
coach eveiy evening ; and am aftei'wards often 
doomed to sit down to whist and swabbers, or 
one-and-thirty bone-ace for farthings. Mrs. 
Mayoress is a very violent party woman ; and 
she has two pug-dogs ; one of which she calls 
Sir John, and the other Colonel, in compliment, 
you must know, to my husband and his brother 
candidate. 

We had a ball the other day ; and I opened it 
with Sir Humphrey Chace, who danced in his 
boots, and hobbled along for all the world like 
the dancing-bears, which I have seen in the 
streets of London. A terrible mistake happen- 
ed about precedence, which, I fear, will lose Sir 
John a good many votes. An attoniey'« wife 
was very angry thsrt her daughter, a little pert 
chit just come from the boarding-school, was 
not called out to dance before Miss Norton, the 
brewer's daughter, when every body knew (»he 
said) that her girl was a gentlewoman bi'ed and 
born. 

J wish, my dear, you were to see my dressing- 
room ; you would think it was a ribbon-shop. 
Lefttice and I have been busy all this week in 
making up knots and favours ; and yesterday 
no milliner's 'prentice could work harder than I 
did, in tying them on to the sweaty hats of coun- 
try bumpkins. And is it not very hard upon 
me ? I must not even dress as I please ; but am 
obliged to wear blue, though you know it does 
not suit my complexion, and makes me look as 
horrid as the witches in Macbeth. 

But what is worse than all. Sir John tells me, 
the election expenses have run so high, that he 
must shorten my allowance of pin-money. He 
talks of turning off half his servants ; nay, he 
has even hinted to me, that I shall not come to 
town all the winter. Barbarous creature ! — 
But if he dare serve me so, he shall positively 
lose his election next time ; I will raise such a 
spirit of opposition in all the wives and daugh- 
ters of the county against him. 

I am youi" affectionate fi'iend, &c. 

This lady's case is, indeed, very much to be 
pitied : but as Sir John has had the good luck to 
gain his point after a strong opposition, he will, 
doubtless, be sensible of the gi-eat share his lady 
had in his success. For my own part, when I 
consider the vast influence which the fair sex 
must naturally have over my fellow-countrymen, 
I cannot help looking on their interesting them- 
selves in these matters as a very serious affair. 
What success must a fine lady meet with on her 
canvas ! No gentleman to be sure could be so rude, 



OT 80 cruel, as to refuse such a pretty beggar any 
thing she could ask ; and an honest country far- 
mer, who could withstand any other arguments, 
might be coaxed and wheedled, oi* bribed with a 
smile, into voting against his conscience. Many 
instances have been found, dnring the late elec- 
tions, of husbands who have been forced to poll 
as their wives would hare them ; and I know a 
young fellow that was brought over to give a 
vote against his inclination by his sweetheart, 
who refused to receive his addresses, if he did 
not change his party. 

It may not, perhaps, be loo bold an assertion, 
that half the members in the present parliament 
owe their seats to the direct ot indirect influence 
of the other sex. It would, therefore, be -highly 
proper for the legislature to provide against this 
evil for the future ; and I hope, before the next 
general election, to see among the votes the fol- 
lowing resolution : 
Resolved, 

That it is a high infringement of the liberties 
and privileges of the Commons of Great Britain, 
for any peeress, or any other lady to concern 
themselves in the elections of members to serve 
for the Commons in Parliament. T. 



No. 21.] Thursday, June 20, 1754. 



> StndeOy hvllatis ut mifu nugii 



Pagina turgescat, dare pondus idoneafumo. Pebsius. 

A tale in sounding phrase I strive to tell. 
With pompous trifles that my page may swell ; 
That wordy trappings the thin sense may cloak 
And add imaginary weight to smoke. 

Tquassouw, the son of Kqvussomo, was Kon- 
quer, or Chief Captain over the Sixteen Nations 
of Caffraria. He was descended from N'oh and 
Hingn'oh, vrho dropt from the moon; and his 
power extended over all the Kraals of the Hot- 
tentots. 

This prince was remarkable for his prowess 
and activity ; his speed was like the torrent, that 
rushes down the precipice ; and he would over- 
take the wild ass in her flight : his arrows 
brought down the eagle from the clouds ; the 
lion fell before bim, and his lance drank the 
blood of the rhinoceros. He fathomed the wa- 
ters of the deep, and buffeted the billows in the 
tempest ; he drew the rock-fish from their lurk- 
ing holes, and rifled the beds of coral. Traine<l 
from his infancy in the exercise of war, to wieKl 
the hassagaye with dexterity, and break the wild 
bulls to battle, he was a stranger to the short 
dalliance of love ; and beheld with indifference 
the thick-lipped damsels of Gongeman, and the 
fiat-nosed beauties of Hauteniqua. 

As Tquassouw was one day giving instructions 
for spreading toils for the elk, and digging pit- 



No. 21 1| 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



37 



ialls for the Blephant, he received information, 
that a tiger prowling for prey was committing 
ravages on the Kraals of the Chamtouers. He 
snatched up his how of olive-wood, and hounded, 
like the roebuck on the mountains, to their as- 
sistance. He arrived just at the instant when 
the enraged animal was about to fasten on a vir- 
gin,'and aiming a poisoned arrow at his heart, 
laid him dead at her feet. The virgin threw 
herself on the ground, and covered her head 
with dust, to thank her deliverer ; but when she 
rose, the prince was dazzled with her charms. 
He was struck with the glossy hue of her com- 
plexion, which shone like the jetty down on the 
black hogs of Hessaqua : he -was ravished with 
the prest gi'istle of her nose : and his eyes dwelt 
with admiration on the flaccid beauties of her 
breasts, which descended to her naval. 

Knonmquaiha (for that was the virgin's 
name)was daughter to the Kouquequa or Lead- 
er of the Kraal, vv^ho bred her up with all the deli- 
cacy of her sex. She was fed with the entrails 
of goats, she sucked the eggs of the ostrich, and 
her drink was the milk of ewes. After gazing 
for some time upon her charms, the prince, in 
great transport, embraced the soles of her feet : 
then ripping the beast he had just killed, took 
out the caul, and hung it about her neck, in to- 
ken of his affection. He afterwards stripped the 
tiger of his skin, and sending it to the Kouqiie- 
qua her father, demanded the damsel in mar- 
riage. 

The eve of the full moon was appointed for 
the celebration of the nuptials of Tquassouw and 
Knonmquaiha. When the day airived, the 
magnificence in which the bridegroom was ar- 
rayed,' amazed all Caffraria. Over his shoul- 
der was cast a Kroese, or mantle of wild cat- 
skins ; he cut sandals for his feet from the raw 
hide of an elephant ; he had hunted down a leo- 
pard, and of the spotted fur formed a superb cap 
for his head ; he girded his loins with the intes- 
tines, and the bladder of the beast he blew up 
and fastened to his hair. 

Nor was Knonmquaiha less employed in 
adorning her person. She made a varnish of the 
fat of goats with mixed soot, with wliich she 
anointed her whole body, as she stood beneath 
the rays of the sim : her locks wei-e clotted with 
melted grease, and powdered with the yellow 
dust of buchu : her face, which shone like the 
polished ebony, was beautifully varied with 
spots of red earth, and appeared like the sable 
curtain of the night bespangled with stars ; she 
sprinkled her limbs with wood ashes, and per- 
fumed them with the dung of the stinkbingsem. 
Her arms and legs were entwined with the 
shining entrails of a heifer: from her neck 
there hung a pouch composed of the stomach of 
a kid : the wings of an ostrich overshadowed 
the fleshy promontories behind ; and before, she 
wore an api'on formed of the shaggy esirs of a lion. | 



The chiefe of the seveial Kraals, who were 
summoned to assist at their nuptials, formed a 
circle on the ground, sitting upon their heels, and 
bowing their heads between their knees in token 
of reverence. In the centre the illustrious 
prince with his sable bride, reposed upon soft 
cushions of cow-dung. Then the Surri or chief 
priest approached them, and in a deep voice 
chanted the nuptial rites to^ the melodious 
gi'umbliiig of the gom-gom ; and at the same 
time, according to the manner of CaflEraria, 
bedewed them plentifully with the urinary 
benediction. The bride and bridegi-oom rubbed 
in the precious stream with ecstacy ; while the 
briny drops trickled from then* bodies like the 
oozy surge from the rocks of Chirigriqua. 

The Hottentots had seen the increase and 
wane of two moons since the happy union of 
Tquassouw and Knonmquaiha, when the 
Kraals were surprised with the appearance of a 
most extraordinai'y personage that came fi"om 
the savage people who rose from the sea, and 
had lately fixed themselves on the borders of 
Cafft-aria. His body was en^vrapped with 
strange coverings, which concealed every part 
fi'om sight, except his face and hands. Upon 
his skin the sun darted his scorching rays in 
vain, and the colour of it was pale and -wan as 
the watery beams of the moon. His hair, which 
he could put on and take off at pleasiu-e, was 
white as the blossoms of the almond- tree, and 
bushy as the fleece of tlie ram- His lips and 
cheeks resembled the red ochi'e, and his nose wa$ 
sharpened like the beak of an eagle. His lan- 
guage, which was rough and inai'ticulate, was 
as the language of beasts; nor could Tquassouw 
discover his nxeaning, till a Hottentot (who at 
the first coming of these people had been taken 
prisoner, and afterwai-ds made his escape) inter- 
pi'eted betAveen them. This interpreter inform- 
ed the prince, that the stranger was sent from 
his fellow-countrymen to treat about the en- 
largement of their territories, and that he was 
called, among them, Mynheer Van Snickersnee. 
Tquassouw, who was remarkable for his hu- 
manity, treated the savage Avith extraordinary 
benevolence. He spi'ead a mantle of sheep- 
skins, anointed with fat, for his bed ; and for his 
food he boiled in their own blood the tripes of 
the fattest herds that grazed in the rich pastures 
of the Heykoms. The stranger in 'return in- 
structed the prince in the manners of the savages, 
and often amused him. with sending fire from 
a hollow engine, which rent the air with 
thunder. Nor was he less studious to please the 
gentle Knonmquaiha. He bound bracelets of 
polished metal about her arms, and encircled her 
neck with beads of glass : he filled the cocoa-shell 
with a delicious liquor, and gave it her to diink, 
which exhilarated her heart, and made her eyes 
sparkle with joy : he also taught her to kindle 
fire through a tube of clay with the dried leaves 



38 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 22. 



of Dacha, and to send forth rolls of odorous 
smoke from her mouth. After having sojoui'n- 
ed in the Kraals for the space of half a moon, 
the stranger was dismissed with magnificent 
presents of the teeth of elephants ; and a grant 
was made to his countrymen of the fertile mea- 
dows of Kochequa, and the forests of Stink- 
wood bounded by the Palamite river. 

Tquassouw and Knonmquaiha continued to 
live together in the most cordial affection ; and 
the Surris every night invoked the great Gounja 
Ticquoa, who illuminates the moon, that he 
would give an heir to the race of N'oh and 
Hingn'oh. The princess at length manifested 
the happy tokens of pregnancy : while her waist 
increased daily in circumference, and swelled 
like the gourd. When the time of her delivery 
approached, she was committed to the care of 
the wise women, who placed her on a couch of 
the reeking entrails of a cow newly slain, and 
to facilitate the birth, gave her a portion of the 
milk of wild asses, and fomented her loins with 
the warm dung of elephants. When the throes 
of child-birth came on, a terrible hurricane 
howled along the coast, the air bellowed with 
thunder, and the face of the moon was obscured 
as with a veil. The Kraal echoed with shrieks 
and lamentations, and the wise women cried 
out, that the princess was delivered of a mon- 
ster. 

The offspring of her womb was white.— They 
took the child and washed him with the juice 
of aloes : they exposed his limbs to the sun, 
anointed them with the fat, and rubbed them 
Avith the excrement of black bulls :— but his 
skin still retained its detested hue, and the child 
was still white. The venerable Surris were as- 
sembled to deliberate on the cause of this prodi- 
gy ; and they unanimously pronounced, that it 
was owing to the evil machinations of the dae- 
mon Cham-ouna, who had practised on the vir- 
tue of the princess under the appearance of Myn- 
heer Van Snickersnee. 

The incestuous parent and her unnatural off- 
spring were judged unworthy to live. They 
bowed a branch of an olive tree in the forest of 
lions, on which the white monster was sus- 
pended by the heel,s ; and ravenous beasts feast- 
ed on the issue of Knonmquaiha. The princess 
herself was sentenced to the severe punishment 
allotted to the heinous crime of adultery. The 
Kouquequas, who scarce twelve moons before 
had met to celebrate her nuptials, were now 
summoned to assist at her unhappy death. They 
were collected in a circle, each of them wielding 
a huge club of cripple-wood. The beauteous 
criminal stood weeping in the midst of them, 
prepared to receive the first blow from the hand 
of her injured husband. Tquassouw in vain 
essayed to perform the sad office : thrice he up- 
lifted his ponderous mace of iron, and thrice 
dropt it ineffectual on the ground. At length 



from his re.uctant arm descended the fell stroke, 
which lighted on that nose, whose flatness and 
expansion had first captivated his heart. The 
Kouquequas then rushing in with their clubs, 
redoubled their blows on her body, till the 
pounded Knonmquaiha lay as a heap of mud, 
which the retiring flood leaves on the strand. 

Her battered limbs, now without form and 
distinction, were inclosed in the paunch of a 
rhinoceros, which was fastened to the point of a 
bearded arrow, and shot into the ocean. Tquas- 
souw remained inconsolable for her loss : he 
frequently climbed the lofty cliffs of Chirigrique, 
and cast his eyes on the watery expanse. One 
night, as he stood howling with the wolves to 
the moon, he descried the paunch that contained 
the precious relics of Knonmquaiha, dancing on 
a wave and floating towards him. Thrice he 
cried out with a lamentable voice. Bo, Bo, Bo ; 
then springing from the cliff, he darted like the 
eagle sousing on his prey. The paunch burst 
asunder beneath his weight; the green wave 
was discoloured with the gore, and Tquassouw 
was enveloped in the mass. He was heard of no 
more : and it was believed by the people who 
remained ignorant of this catastrophe, that he 
was snatched up into the moon. 

The fate of this unhappy pair is recorded 
among the nations of the Hottentots to this day ; 
and their marriage rites have ever since con- 
cluded with a wish, ' That the husband may be 
happier than Tquassouw, and the wife more 
chaste than Knonmquaiha.' W. 



No. 22.] Thursdat, June 27, 1754. 



Scilicet erpectes, ut tradet mater honestos 

Atque alios mores, quam quos habet ? Ji 

The same their breeding, and so like each other, 
Miss is the very model of her mother. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I REMEMBER, in a match between two persona 
of diffei'ent religions, it was stipulated in the 
marriage articles, that the boys should be bred 
up in the persuasion of the father, and the girls 
in that of the mother. The consequence of this 
was, that one part of the family was taught to 
look upon the other with a most pious con- 
tempt ; and in the end it produced a separation. 
The sons followed the example of their father, 
and in order to avoid the least appearance of 
superstition or bigotry, turned out freethinkers : 
the lady of the house retired with her daughters 
to France, and to preserve them from a commu- 
nication with heretics, confined them in a nun- 
nery. 

The like method seems to be observed la the 



No. 22.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



S9 



general education of children, who as soon as 
they leave the nursery, are resigned over to the 
care and direction of their respective parents, 
according to their sex : whence it often happens, 
that families are as much distinguished by their 
peculiar manners, as by a certain cast of features 
or complexion. My young squire is put upon a 
little horse before he can well walk, and becomes 
(as his father was before him) the pupil and 
companion of the groom and the gamekeeper ; 
and if miss's mamma should chance to be the 
daughter of a poor man of quality, though tlie 
wife of a substantial tradesman, the little lady 
is early instructed to value herself on her blood, 
and to despise her father's dirty connexions with 
business. 

To this method of education it is owing, that 
the same vices and follies are delivei'ed down 
from one generation to another. The modish 
excesses of these times are in their nature the 
same with those which were fonnerly in vogue, 
though they differ somewhat in their shape and 
appearance. The present race of bucks, bloods, 
and freethinkers, are but the spawn of the Mo- 
hocks and the Hell- Fire Club : and if our 
modern fine ladies have had their masquerades, 
their Vauxhalls, their Sunday tea-drinking at 
Ranelagh, and their morning chocolate in the 
Hay-market, they have only improved upon the 
Ring, the Spring Gardens, the New Exchange 
assignations, and the morning puppet-show, 
which employed the attention of their grand- 
mothers. And as it is not apparent that our 
people of fashion are more wicked, so neither ai"e 
they wiser than their predecessors. 

When I contemplate the manner in which the 
younger part of the polite world is brought up, 
I am apt to cari'y my reflections fui'ther than 
what merely concerns their own persons. Let 
our young men of fashion expose their ignorance 
abroad, rather than improve at our universities 
at home;— let them trifle away their time in 
insipid amusements, and run loose about the 
town in one continued round of extravagance 
and debauchery ; let our young ladies be taught 
nothing but gallantry and whist, and be seen 
only at routs and assemblies ; — if the conse- 
quence extend not beyond themselves. But as 
these are to be the fathers and mothers, the 
guardians and tutors, on whom the morals of 
our next race must depend ; it becomes a public 
concern, lest the reign of vice and ignorance 
should be supported, as it were, by hereditary 
succession, and propagated to distant genera- 
tions. 

The modern method of education is, indeed, 
so little calculated to promote virtue and learn- 
ing, that it is almost impossible the children 
should be wiser or better than their parents. 
The country squire seldom fails of seeing his son 
as dull and awkward a looby as himself; whUe I 
tJie debauched or foppish man of quality breeds ] 



up a rake or an empty coxcomb, who brings new 
diseases into the family, and fresh mortgages on 
the estate. If you would therefore favour us, 
Mr. Town, with a few remai'ks on this subject, 
you would do sei-vice to posterity : for the 
present, give me leave to illustrate what I have 
said, by the example of a very fashionable 
family. 

Lady BeUe Modely was one of the finest 
women in the last reign, as the Colonel, her 
husband, was one of the smartest fellows. After 
they had astonished the world singly with the 
eclat of their actions, they came together ; as 
her ladyship was proud of fixing a man, who 
was thought to have inti'igued with half the 
women of fashion; while the Colonel fell a 
sacrifice to her beauty, only because she was ad- 
mired by every body else. They lived together 
for some time in great splendour ; but as matri- 
mony was a constraint upon their freedom, they 
at length parted by a private agi'eement. Lady 
Belle keeps the best company, is at the head of 
every party of pleasui-e, never misses a masque- 
rade, and has card-tables constantly at her own 
house on Sundays. The Colonel is one of the 
oldest members of the club at White's, runs 
horses at Newmarket, has an actress in keeping, 
and is protected from the impertinence of duns, 
by having purchased a seat in parliament at 
almost as great an expense as would have satis- 
fied the demands of his creditors. 

They have two childi-en : the one has been 
educated by the direction of his father, the other 
has been bred up under the eye of her mamma. 
The boy was, indeed, put to a grammar-school 
for a while ; but Latin and Greek, or indeed 
any language except French, are of no service to 
a gentleman ; and as the lad had discovered early 
marks of spirit (such as kicking down wheel- 
ban'ows, and setting old women on their heads,) 
the Colonel sv/ore Jack should be a soldier, and 
accordingly begged a pair of coloui's for him be- 
fore he ^vas fifteen. The Colonel, who had 
served only in the peaceful campaigns of Covent- 
Garden, took great pains to instil into Jack all 
that prowess so remarkable in the modern heroes 
of the army. He enumerated his victories over 
bullies, his encounters Avith sharpers, his mid- 
night skirmishes with constables, his storming 
of bagnios, his imprisonment in round-houses, 
and his honoui-able wounds in the service of 
prostitutes. The Captain could not fail of im- 
proving under so excellent a tutor, and soon be- 
came as eminent as his father. He is a blood of 
the first rate ; Sherlock has instructed him in 
the use of the broad-sword, and Broughton has 
taught him to box. He is a fine gentleman at 
assemblies, a sharper at the gaming-table, and a 
bully at the bagnios. He has not yet killed his 
man in the honourable way ; but he has gallantly 
crippled several watchmen, and most counfge- 
ously run a waiter througli the body. Hia 



40 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 23. 



scanty pay will not allow him to keep a mistress ; 
l»ut it is said, that he is privately married to a 
woman of the town. 

Such is the consequence of the son's education, 
and by this our people of distinction may learn 
how much better it is to let a lad see the woi'ld, 
as the phrase is, than to lash him through a 
grammar-school, like a parish-boy, and confine 
him with dull pedants in a college cloister. 
Lady Belle has not been less careful of her 
daughter, Miss Harriot. Those who undertake 
the business of educating polite females, have laid 
it down as a rule to consider women merely as 
dolls ; and therefore never attempt the culti- 
vation of their principles, but employ their 
whole attention on adorning their persons. 
The romantic notions of honour and virtue 
are only fit for poor awkwai'd creatures who 
are to many a shopkeeper or a parson ; but 
they are of no use to a fine girl, who is designed 
to make a figure. Accox'dingly Miss HaiTiot 
was committed to the care of Madame Gover- 
nante, who never suffered her to speak a word 
of English, and a French dancing-master, who 
taught her to hold up her head, and come into 
the I'oom like a little lady. As she grew up, 
her mamma instructed her in the nicest points 
of ceremony and good breeding : she explained 
to her the laws and regulations of dress, direct- 
ed her in the choice of her Sbrocades, told her 
what fashions best became her, and what colours 
best suited h^r complexion. These excellent 
rules were constantly enforced by examples 
drawn from her ladyship's own practice : above 
all, she unravelled the various arts of gallantry 
and intrigue, recounted the stratagems she had 
herself employed in gaining new conquests, 
taught her when to advance and when to re- 
treat, and how far she might ventui'e to indulge 
herself in certain freedoms without endangering 
her reputation. 

Miss Harriot soon became the public admira- 
tion of all the pretty fellows, and Avas allowed 
to be a lady of the most elegant accomplish- 
ments. She was reckoned to play a better game 
at whist than Mrs. Sharply, and to bet with 
more spirit at brag than the bold Lady Atall. 
She was carried about to Tunbridge, Bath, 
Cheltenham, and every other place of diversion, 
by the mother ; where she was exposed as at a 
public mart for beauty, and put up to the best 
bidder. But as Miss had some fortune in her 
own disposal, she had not the patience to wait 
the formal delaj's of marriage articles, jointures, 
settlements, and pin-money ; and just before the 
late act took place, eloped with a gentleman, who 
had long been very intimate with her mamma, 
and recommended himself to Miss Harriot by a 
stature of six-foot and a shoulder-knot. 
I am. Sir, 

O. Your humble Servant, &c. 



No. 23.] Thursday, July 4, ITlii. 



Qui modo scurra 

Avt si quid hac re tritium vidcbatur. 

Idem injicao est inficctior rure. Cati'i.i.. 

The Fool of Pantomime, who ne'er spake word. 
Or worse than Fool, the Senator, or T-ord, 
In the duU country his dull trade pursuing, 
The blockhead underdoes his underdoing. 

I HAVE lately received several letters from my 
cousin Village, concernir»g the entertainments 
of the country. He tells me, that they have 
concerts every evening in that part of the month 
in which the almanack promises it will be moon- 
light. In one little town in particular, aU the 
polite company of the place assemble every Sun- 
day evening (after church) at the Three Com- 
passes, which is kept by the clerk, to regale 
themselves with cakes and fine home-brewed ih 
an arbour at the end of his cabbage garden ; ta 
which they have given the genteel denomination 
of Little Ranelagh. I shall this day present my 
reader with his last letter ; and only take notice 
of the grand difference between the summer 
amusements in town and country. In London, 
while we are almost smothered in smoke and 
dust, gardens are open every eveoing to refresh 
us with the pure air of the country ; while thode, 
who have the finest walks and most beautiful 
prospects eternally before them, shut themselvoa 
up in theatres and baU-rooms, * lock fair day- 
light out, and make themselves an artificial 
London.' 

Deab, Cousin, 

Whenever the town goes, those who liv« by 
the town naturally follow. The facetious and 
entertaining gentry, who, during the winter, 
amused the world within the bills of mortality, 
are now dispei-sed into different parts of the 
country. We have bad most of them here al- 
ready. The Colossus, the Dwarf, the Female 
Samson, made some stay with us. We went for 
a week together to see Mr. Powell eat red-hot 
tobacco-pipes, and swallow fire and brimstone. 
The Hermaphrodite was obliged to leave the 
town on a scandalous report, that a lady used 
frequently to visit him in private. Mr. Church 
for some time charmed us with cx)ncertos and 
sonatas on the Jew's-harp; and at our last ball 
we footed it to our usual melody of the tabor 
and pipe, accompanied with the cymbal and 
wooden spoons. 

I will not tire you with a particular detail of 
all our entertainments, but confine myself at 
present to those of the stage. About the middle 
of last month there came among us one of those 
gentlemen, who are famous for the cure of CTery 
distemper, and espcciaUy those pronounced in- 



No. 23.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



41 



curable by the faculty. The vulgar call him a 
mountebank ; — but wlsen I considered his im- 
passioned speeches, and the extempore stage from 
which he uttered them, I was apt to compare 
liim to Thespis and his cart. Again, when I 
beheld the Doctor dealing out his drugs, and at 
the same time saw his Merry- Andrew play over 
his tricks, it put me in mind of a tragi-comedy ; 
where the pathetic and the ludicrous are so inti- 
mately connected, and the whole piece is so merry 
and so sad, that the audience is at a loss whether 
they shall laugh or cry. 

After the Doctor had been here some time, 
there came down two or three emissaries from 
a strolling company, in order (according to 
the players' phrase) to take the town ; but 
the Mayor being a strict Presbyterian, absolute- 
ly refused to license their exhibitions. The play- 
ers, you must know, finding this a good town, 
had taken a lease last summer of an old synagogue 
deserted by the Jews ; and were therefore much 
alarmed at this disappointment : but when they 
were in the utmost despair, the ladies of the place 
joined in a petition to Mrs. Mayoress, who pre- 
vailed on her husband to wink at their perform- 
ances. The company immediately opened their 
S3'nagogue- theatre with the Merchant of Venice : 
and finding the Doctor's Zany a droll fellow, 
they decoyed him into their service ; and he has 
since performed the part of the Mock Doctor 
with universal applause. Upon his revolt, the 
Doctor himself found it absolutely necessary to 
enter the company ; and having a talent for 
tragedy, has performed with gi'eat success the 
Apothecary in Romeo and Juliet. 

The performers at our rustic theatre arc far 
beyond those paltry strollers, who run about the 
counti'y, and exhibit in a barn or cow-house : 
for (as their bills declare) they are a company of 
comedians from the Theatres Royal; and I as- 
sure you, they are as much applauded by our 
country critics, as any of your capital actors. 
The shops of our ti-adesmen have been almost 
deserted, and a crowd of weavers and hard- 
ware-men have elbowed each other fwo hours 
before the opening of the doors, when the bills 
have informed us, in enormous red letters, that 
the part of George Barnwell was to be per- 
formed by Mr. , at the particular desire of 

several ladies of distinction. It is true, indeed, 
that our principal actors have most of them had 
their education in Covent- Garden, or Drury- 
Lane ; but they have been employed in the 
business of the drama in a degree but just above 
a scene-shifter. A heroine, to whom your 
managers in town (in envy to her rising merit) 
scarce allotted the humble part of a confidante, 
now blubbers out Andi-omache or Belvidera : 
the attendants on a monarch strut monarchs 
themselves, mutes find their voices, and mes- 
sage-bearers rise into heroes. The humour of 
our best comedian consists in shrugs and gri- 



maces ; he jokes in a wry mouth, and repartees 
in a grin : in short, he y>ractises on Congreve 
and Vanbrugh all those distortions that gained 
him so much applause from the galleries, in the 
drubs which he was condemned to undergo in 
pantomimes. I was vastly diverted at seeing a 
fellow in the character of Sir Harry Wildair, 
whose chief action was a continually pressing 
together of the thumb and fore-finger; which, 
had he lifted them to his nose, I should have 
thought he designed as an imitation of taking 
snuff; but I could easily account for the cause 
of this singular gesture, when I discovered that 
Sir Harry was no less a person than the dexter- 
ous Mr. Clippit, the candle-snuffer. 

You would laugh to see how strangely the 
parts of a play are cast. They played Cato ; 
and their Marcia was such an old woman, that 
when Juba came on with his — * Hail ! charm- 
ing maid !' — the fellow could not help laughing. 
A.nother night, I was surprised to hear an eager 
lover talk of rushing into his mistress's arms, 
rioting on the nectar of her lips, and desii-ing 
(in the tragedy rapture) to ' hug her thus, and 
thus for ever;' though he always took care to 
stand at a most ceremonious distance ; but I. 
was afterwards very much diverted at the cause 
of this extraordinary respect, when I was told, 
that the Indy laboured under the misfortune of 
an ulcer in her leg, which occasioned such a 
disagreeable stench, that the performers were 
obliged to keep her at arm's length. The enter- 
tainment was Letha ; and the part of the 
Frenchman was performed by a South Biiton ; 
who, as he could not pi'onounce a word of the 
French language, supplied its place by gabbling 
in his native Welch. 

The decorations, or (in the theatrical dialect) 
the property af our company, are as extraordi- 
nary as the performers. Othello raves about a 
checked handkerchief; the Ghost in Hamlet 
stalks in a postilion's leathern jacket for a coat 
of mail ; and, in a new pantomime of their 
own, Cupid enters with a fiddle-case slung over 
his shoulders for a quiver. The apothecary of 
the town is free of the house, for lending them 
a pestle and mortar to serve as the bell in Venice 
Preserved ; at)d a barber-surgeon has the same 
privilege, for furnishing them with basins of 
blood to besmear the daggers in IVIacbeth. Mac- 
beth himself carries a rolling-pin in his hand 
for a truncheon ; and, as the breaking of glasses 
would be very expensive, he dashes down a 
pewter pint at the sight of Banquo's Ghost. 

A fray happened here the other night, which 
was no small diversion to the audience. It 
seems there had been a great contest between 
two of these mimic heroes, who was the ^ttest 
to play Richard the Third. One of them was 
reckoned to have the better person, as he was 
very round-shouldered, and one of his legs was 
shorter than the other ; but his antagonist car- 
G 



42 



THE CONNOISSEUR 



[No. 24. 



I'leA the part, because he started best in the 
Tent-Scene. However, when the curtain dr«w 
up, they both rushed in upon the stage at once ; 
and bawling out together, ' Now are our brows 
l>ound with victorious wreaths,' they both went 
through the whole speech without stopping. 
I aii), dear Cousin, yours, &c. 



No. 24.] Thursday, July 11, 1754.. 



Hie dablt populo, patribusque, equitique lef^endmn. Mart. 

Books that the knowledge of the world can show. 
Such as might please a lady, or a beau. 

When I consider the absurd taste for litera- 
ture, that once prevai]ed among our persons of 
distinction, I cannot but applaud the reforma- 
tion, which has been since brought about in this 
article by the polite world. A Duke of New- 
castle made himself remarkable by a Treatise on 
Horsemanship; a Rochester supplied the place 
of Ovid in the closets of men of pleasure ; and 
even the ladies of former ages sacrificed to love 
in novels and romances. I will not mention a 
Shaftsbury, as our present age has produced a 
Bolingbroke. We of this generation are wiser 
than to suffer our youth of quality to lose their 
precious time in studying the Belles Lettres, 
while our only care is to introduce them into 
the beau monde. A modern poet, instead of lay- 
ing down the theory of horsemanship, is perfect 
in the practice, and commences jockey himself; 
and our rakes of fashion are content with acting 
the scenes which Rochester described. Our 
ladies are, indeed, very well qualified to publish 
a recital of amours; and one in particular has 
already entertained the world with memoirs of 
her own intrigues, cuckoldoms, and elopements. 
I am very glad to find the present age so en- 
tirely free from pedantry. Some part of the 
polite world read, indeed, but they are so wise 
as to read only for amusement; or at least only 
to improve themselves in the more modern and 
fashionable sciences. A Treatise on Whist has 
more admirers than a System of Logic, and a 
new Atalantis would be more universally read 
than a Practice of piety. A fine gentleman or 
lady would no more choose the mind of a pe- 
dant, than the person of a cook-maid, or a por- 
ter. I cannot, therefore, but approve of the 
plan laid down by the writer of the following 
letter, and would recommend it to all persons of 
fashion to subscribe to his proposals. 

Sir, 
1 have long observed with infinite regret the 
little care that is taken to supply persons of dis- 



and amusement. It is no wonder, that they 
should be so averse to study, when learning is 
rendered so disagreeable. Common creatures, 
indeed, as soon as they can spell, may be made 
to read a dull chapter in the Testament, after 
which the Whole Duty of Man, or some other 
useless good book, may be put into their hands ; 
but these can never instruct a man of tbe world 
to say fine things to a lady, or to swear with a 
good grace. Among a few dirty pedants the 
knowledge of Greek and Latin may be culti- 
vated; but among fine gentlemen these are 
justly discarded for French and Italian. Why 
should persons of quality trouble themselves 
about Mathematics and Philosophy, or throw 
away their time in scratching circles and trian- 
gles on a slate, and then rubbing them out again ? 
All the Algebra requisite for them to know, is 
the combination of figures on the dice ; nor 
could Euclid be of any use to them, except he had 
represented the most graceful attitudes in fenc- 
ing, or drawn out the lines of a minuet. 

In order to remedy these inconveniences, and 
that the erudition of persons of fashion may he 
as different from the vulgar knowledge of the 
rest of mankind as their dress, I have formed a 
project for regulating their studies. An old 
crabbed philosopher once told a monarch, that 
there was no royal way of learning the mathe- 
matics : — First then, as to the musty volumes 
which contain Greek, Latin, and the Sciences, 
(since there is no genteel method of coming at 
the knowledge of them) I would banish them 
entirely from the polite world, and have them 
chained down in university libraries, tbe only 
places where they can be useful or entertaining. 
Having thus cleared the shelves of this learned 
lumber, we shall have room to fill them more 
elegantly. I'o this end, I have collected all such 
books as are proper to be perused by people of 
quality; and shall shortly make my scheme 
public by opening a handsome room under the 
title of the Polite Circulating Library. Many 
of my books are entirely new and original : all 
the modern novels, and most of the periodical 
papers fall so directly in with my plan, that 
they will be sure to find a place in my library ; 
and if Mr. Town shows himself an encourager 
of my scheme, I shall expect to see peers and 
peeresses take up the pen, and shine in the Con- 
noisseur. 

I intend in the beginning of the winter to 
publish my proposals at large, and in the mean 
time beg you to submit the following Specimen 
of my Books to the public. 

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS, ETC. 

Revelation, a Romance. 

The Complete Cook, by Solomon Gundy. 

The Gentleman's Religion. By a Free-lTiinker. 



tin?tion with proper books for their instruction [ Dissertation on Parties. Or an Essay on Break- 



No. 25.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



43 



ing of Eggs. Addressed to the Big and Little 
Endians. 

A Defence of Alexander the Coppersmith against 
St. Paul. By the late Lord Bolingbroke. 

The Practice of Bagnios : or the Modern Me- 
thod of Sweating. 

The Ladies' Dispensatory ; containing the most 
approved Recipes for Tooth- Powders, Lip- 
Salves, Beautifying Lotions, Almond Pastes, 
Ointments for Freckles, Pomatums, and 
Hysteric Waters ; according to the present 
Practice. 

A Description of the World; with the Lati- 
tudes of Vauxhall, Ranolagh, the Theati'es, 
the Opera- House, &c. calculated for the Meri- 
dian of St. James's. 

A Map of the Roads leading to Tyburn. By 
James Maclean, Esq. late Surveyor of the 
High- Ways. 

Essay on Delicacy. By an Ensign of the 
Guards. 

The Art of Dissembling. From the French. 

A New Way to pay Old Debts. From an 
Original published at Berlin. 

The Spirit of Laws. With Notes on the Game- 
Act, the Jew-Bill, and the Bill for preventing 
Marriages. 

Jargon versus Common Sense. By a Bencher 
of Lincoln's Inn. 

Universal Arithmetic. Containing Calculations 
for laying the Odds at Horse- Racing, Cock- 
ing, Card-playing, &c. 

Optics, or the Use of Opei'a- Glasses : with the 
Importance and Benefit of Near-Sightedness 
considered. To which is added, a Disserta- 
tion on the portable Pocket Looking- Glass. 

The Modern Gymnasium. By Broughton. 

Geometry made easy, and adapted to the mean- 
est Capacity, By Nath. Hart, Dancing- 
Master to Grown Gentlemen. 

De Oratore, or the Art of speaking on all 
Subjects. By Andrew Mac Broad, F. R. H. S. 
Fellow of the Robin Hood Society. 

A Dissertation on the Miracle x>f the Five 
Loaves. By the Baker, President of the 
same Society. 

Gai'rick upon Death ; with an account of the 
several Distortions of the Face, and Wri things 
of the Body ; and particular Directions con- 
cerning Sighs, Groans, Ohs, Ahs, &c. &c. For 
the use of Young Actors. 

The Court Register ; Containing an exact List 
of all Public Days, Routs, Assemblies, &c. 
where and when kept. 
The Englishman in Paris. 
The Englishman returned fiom Pai'is. 

The Whole Duty of Woman, disposed under 
the Articles of Visiting, Cards, Masquerades, 
Plays, Dress, &c. 
A Dissertation on the waters of Tunbridge, 
Cheltenham, Scai'borough, and Bath : show- 
ing- their vt^onderful Efficacy in removing the 



Vapoui's ; — with Directions how to assist 
their Operations by using the Exercise of 
Country- Dancing. 

The Traveller's Guide, or Young Nobleman's 
Vade Mecum. Containing an exact List of 
the most eminent Peruke Makers, Tailors, 
and Dancing- Masters, &c. Being the Sum of 
a Gentleman's Experience during his tour 
through France and Italy. 

Honour, or the Fashionable Combat. — Honns- 
low Heath, or the Dernier Resort. — The 
Suicide, or the Coup de Grace. — —Tragedies. 

The Virgin Unmasked. — Miss in her Teens. — 
The Debauchees. — She would, if she could. 
— The Caieless Husband. — The Wanton 
Wife. — Th& Innocent Adultery. Come- 
dies ; as they are now acting with universal 
applause. 

The True Patriot, a Farce. 

Handeli, Geminiani, Degiardini, Chabrani. 
Pasquali Pasqualini, Passerini, Baumgarteni, 
Guadagni. Frasi, Gaili, item aliorum harmo- 
niosissimorum Signororum et Signorarum 
Opera. 

Yours, Sec 
T. Jacob Elzevir. 



No. 25,] Thursday, July 18, lloi. 



• J'ivi7nus ambitiosS 

Paupertate ^ Juv. 

A laced, embroider'd, powder'd, bcggai-ciowd ; 
Haughty, yet even poorer than they're proud. 

A LITTLE Frenchman, commonly knov/n in 
town by tlie name of Count, and whose tigure 
has been long stuck up in the windows of pi int- 
shops, was always remarkable for the meanness, 
and at the same time the foppery of his appeai*- 
ance. His shoes, though perhaps capped at the 
toe, had red heels to them j and his stockings, 
though often full of holes, were constantly rolled 
up over his knees. By good luck he was once 
master of half a guinea; and having a great 
longing for a feather to his hat, and a very press- 
ing necessity for a pair of breeches, he debated 
with himself about the disposal ot his money. 
However, his vanity got the better of his neces- 
sity ; and the next time the Count appeared in 
the Mall, by the ornaments of his head you 
would have imagined him a beau, and by the 
nether part of his dress you would have taken 
him for a heathen philosopher. 

The conduct of this Frenchman, however 
ridiculous, is copied by a multitude of people in 
this town. To the same little pride of desiring 
to appear finer than they can alTord, are owing 
the many rusty suits of black, the tyes that 
seem taken from the basket of a shoeboy, and 
the smart waistcoats edged with a narrow cord. 



44; 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 25. 



which serves as an apology for lace. 1 know a 
inaa of this cast, who has but one coat ; but by 
now and then turning the cuffs, and changing 
the cape, it passes for two. He uses the same 
ai-tifice with his peruke, which is naturally a 
kind of flowing bob ; but by the occasional addi- 
tion of two tails, it sometimes appears as a 
major. Of this sort of men are composed the 
numerous fraternity of the shabby-genteel, who 
are the chief support of the clothiers in Mon- 
mouth- Street, and the barbers in Middle- Row. 

Women are naturally so fond of ornament, 
that it is no wonder we shoidd meet with so 
many second-hand gentry in that sex. Hence 
arise the red-armed belles that appear in the 
park every Sunday : hence it is, that sacks and 
petenlaii's may be seen at Moorfields and White- 
chapel ; and that those who are ambitious to 
shine in diamonds, glitter in paste and Scotch 
pebbles. When I see the wives and daughters 
of tradesmen and mechanics ixiake such attempts 
at finery, I cannot help pitying their poor fa- 
thers and husbands ; and at the same time am 
apt to consider their dress as a robbery on the 
shop. Thus, when I observe the taAvdiy gen- 
tility of a tallow chandler's daughter, I look up- 
on her as hung round with long sixes, short 
eights, and rushlights ; and when I contemplate 
the awkward pride of dress in a butcher's wife, I 
suppose her carrying about her sirloins of beef, 
tillets of veal, and shoulders of mutton. I was 
vastly diverted with a discovery I made a few 
days since. Going u.pon some business to a 
tradesman's house, I surprised in a very extra- 
ordinary dishabille two females, whom I had 
been frequently used to see strangely dizened out 
in the Mall. These fine ladies, it seems, were no 
other than my honest friend's daughters ; and 
one, who always dresses the family dinner, was 
genteelly employed in winding up the jack, 
while the other was up to the elbows in soap- 
suds. 

A desire of grandem- and magnificence is often 
absurd in those who can support it ; but when 
it takes hold of those who can scarce furnish 
themselves with necessaries, their poverty, in- 
stead of demanding our pity, becomes an object 
of ridicule. Many families among those who 
are called middling people, are not content with- 
out living elegantly as well as comfortably, and 
often involve themselves in very comical distres- 
ses. When they aim at appearing grand in the 
eye of the world, they grow proportion ably mean 
and soi'did in private. I went the other day to 
dine with an old friend : and as he used to keep 
a remarkable good table, I was surprised that I 
could scarce make a meal with him. After din- 
ner he iMing the bell, and ordered the chariot to 
be got ready at six ; and then turning to me 
with an air of superiority, asked if he should set 
me down. Here the riddle was out; and I 
i'ound that his equipage had eat up his table, and 



that he was obliged to starve his family to feed 
his horses. 

I am fti quainted at another house, where the 
master ketps an account against himself. This 
account is exactly stated in a large ledger book. 
What he saves fi-om his ordinary expenses he 
phues undei" the title of Debtor, and what lie 
runs out is ranged under Creditor. I had late- 
ly an ojjportunity of turning over this curious 
account, and could not help smiling at many 
of the articles. Among the rest, I remember 
the following, with which I shall present the 
reader. 

Debtor. 

Dined abroad all this week— 3Iy wife ill — &iw 
no company — Saved seven dinners, etc. 

Kept Lent, and saved in table charges the ex- 
pense of four weeks. 

Bated from the baker's bill half a crown. 

Saved in apparel, by my family continuing to 
wear mourning three months longer than was 
requisite for the death of an aunt. 

Received £1 : 10s. of the undertaker, in lieu of a 
hatband and gloves. 

Creditor. 



Went to the play ivith my tvife and daughtt 
Sat in the boxes, instead of the gallery, as 

usual. Mem. To go no more to plays this 

year. 

Invited Sir Charles Courtly and Major Stand- 
ard to dinner. Treated with claret, and 

two courses, in order to appear handsome. 
Mem. To be denied to every body before din- 
ner-time for these next three weeks. 

Sunday — my wife had a rout — Lost at whist 
thirty guineas— Card-money received, fifty 

shillings. N. B. My wife must be ill 

again. 

Gave at church to a brief for a terrible fire, six- 
pence—Charity begins at home. 

I should be sorry to have this method of ba- 
lancing accounts become general. True economy 
does not merely consist in not exceeding our in- 
come, but in such a judicious management of it, 
as renders our whole appearance equal and con- 
sistent. We should laugh at a nobleman, who, 
to support the expense of running horses, should 
abridge his set to a pair : and, that his jockies 
might come in first for the jdate, be content to 
have his family dragged to his country-seat, like 
servant maids, in the cnravan. There are many 
well meaning people, who have the pride of liv- 
ing in a polite part of the town, though they are 
distressed even to pay the taxes ; and nothing is 
more common than to see one particular room 
in a house furnished like a piUace, while the rest 
have scarcely the necessary accommodations of 
an inn. Such a conduct appeals to me equally 
ridiculous with that of the Frenchman, who 



No. 260 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



45 



(according to the jest) for the sake of wearing 
ruffles, is contented to go without a shirt. 

This eiideavoui" to appear grander than 
our circumstances will allow, is no where 
so contemptible as among those men of plea- 
sure about town, who have not fortunes in 
any proportion to their spirit. Men of quality 
have wisely contrived, that their sins should 
be expensive ; for which reason those, who with 
equal taste have less money, are obliged to be 
economists in their sins, and are put to many 
little shifts to appear tolerably protligate and de- 
bauched. They get a knowledge of the names 
and faces of the most noted %vomen upon town, 
and pretend an intimate acquaintance with 
them ; though tljey know none of that order of 
ladies above the draggle-tailed prostitutes who 
walk the Strand. They talk very familiarly of 
the King's Arms, and are in raptui-es with Mrs. 
Allan's claret, though they always dine snugly 
at a chop-house, and spend their evening at an 
alehouse or cyder cellar. The most ridiculous 
character I know of this sort is a young fellow, 
the son of a rich tobacconist in the city, who 
(because it is the fashion) has taken a girl into 
keeping. He knows the world better than to 
set her up a chariot, or let her have money at 
her own disposal. He regulates her expenses 
with the nicest economy, employs every morn- 
ing in setting down what is laid out upon her, 
and very seriously takes an account of rolls and 
butter, two-i>ence — for ribband, one shilling and 
four-pence — pins, a halfpermy, etc. etc. Thus 
does he reconcile his extravagance liud frugality 
to eaah other ; and is as penui'ious and exact as 
a usurer, that he may be as genteel and wicked 
.IS a lord. O. 



No. 20.] Thursday, July 25, 1754. 



Hie dies vert mihifestus airas 
Exirnet curas. 



HOR. 



Of all the days are in the week, 

1 dearly love but one day ; 
And that's the day that comes between 

A Saturday and Monday. Olu Ballad. 

A GENTLEMAN of my acquaintance lately laid 
before me an estimate of the consumption of 
bread and cheese, cakes, ales, etc. in all the little 
towns near London every Sunday. It is in- 
credible how many thousand buns are devoured 
in that one day at Chelsea and Paddington, and 
how much beer is swallowed at Islington and 
Mile End. Upon the whole I was vastly en- 
tertained with a review of this estimate ; and 
could not help approving the observation of Tom 
Brown, ' that the sabbath is a very fine institu- 
tion, since the very breaking it is the support of 
half the villages about our metropolis.' 



Our common people are very observant of 
that part of the commandment, which enjoins 
them to do no manner of work on that day : 
and which they also seem to understand as a 
license to devote it to pleasure. They take this 
opportunity of thrusting their heads into the 
pillory at Georgia, being sworn at Highgate, 
and rolling down Flamstead-hill, in the Park at 
Greenwich. As they all aim at going into the 
country, nothing can be a greater misfortune to 
the meaner part of the inhabitants of London 
and Westminster, than a rainy Sunday ; and 
how many honest people would be balked of a 
ride once a week, if the legislature were to limit 
the hired one-horse chaises working on that day 
to a certain number, as well as the hackney 
coaches ? 

The substantial tradesman is wheeled down to 
his snug box ; which has nothing rural about it 
except the ivy that over-runs the front, and is 
placed as near to the road side as possible, where 
the pleasure of seeing carriages pass under his 
window, amply compensates for his being al- 
most smothered with dust. The few smart 
'pj'entices, who are able to sit on ahorse, may be 
seen spurring their broken-v/inded hacks up the 
hills : nnd the good-natured husband, together 
with his mate, is dragged along the road to the 
envy and aJmiration of the foot passenger, 
who (to complete the Sunday picture) trudges 
patiently v/ith a child in one arm, wliile his 
beloved doxy leans on the other, and waddles at 
his side sweltering beir^ath the unusual weight 
of a hoop petticoat. 

It is not to be supposed that the counti'y has 
in itself any peculiar attractive charms to those 
v/ho think themselves out of the world, if they 
are not within the sound of Bow Bell. To most 
of our cockneys it serves only as an excuse for 
eating and drinking ; and they get out of town 
merely because they have nothing to do at home. 
A brick-kiln smells as sweet to them as a fp.rm- 
yard ; they would pass by a barn or a hay- 
stack without notice ; but they rejoice at the 
sight of every hedge ale-house that promises 
good home-brewed. As the rest of a cit's life is 
regular and uniform, his Sunday diversions have 
as little variety ; and if he were to take a journal 
of them, we might suppose that it would run 
much in the following manner. 

Sunday— Overslept myself — Did not rise till 
nine— Was a full hour in pulling on my new 
double-channell'd pumps — Could get no break- 
fast, my Avife being busy in dressing herself for 
chui'ch. 

At ten — Family at church — Self walked to 
Mother Red Cap's — Smoked half a pipe, and 
drank a pint of the Alderman's. N. B. The 
beer was not so good as at the Adam i.nd Lve 
at Paiicras. 

Dined at one — Pudding not boiled enough, 



46 



THE CONxNOISSEUR. 



[No. 26. 



Buet musty — Wife was to drive itip in a one- 
horse chair to see Mother Wells at Enfield 
Wash, but it looked likely to rain — Took a nap, 
and posted seven pages from my day-book till 
five. Mem. Colonel Promise has lost his elec- 
tion, and is turned out of his place.— To arrest 
him to-morrow. 

At six — Mrs. Deputy to drink tea with my 
wife — I hate their slip-slops — Called ou my 
neighbour the Common-council man, and took 
a walk with him to Islington. 

From seven to eight — Smoked a pipe at the 
Castle, eat a heart cake, and drank two pints of 
cyder. N. B. To drink cyder often, because 
neighbour tells me it is good for the stone and 
gravel. 

At nine — Got to town again, very much fa- 
tigued with the journey — Pulled off my claret 
coloured coat, and blue satin waistcoat — Went 
to club, smoked three pipes, came home at 
twelve, and slept very soundly, till the 'prentice 
called me to go and take out a writ against 
Colonel Promise. 

As to persons of quality, like Lady Loverule 
in the farce, they cannot see why one day should 
be more holy than another ; therefore Sunday 
wears the same face with them as the rest of the 
week. Accordingly, for some part of this sum- 
mer, Raiielagh was opened on Sunday evening ; 
and I cannot help wondering, that the custom 
did not continue. It must have been very con- 
venient to pass away the time there, till the hour 
of meeting at the card-table; and it was cer- 
tainly more decent to fix assignations there, 
than at church. 

Going to church may, indeed, be reckoned 
among our Sunday amusements, as it is made a 
mere matter of diversion among many well- 
in eaning people, who are induced to appear in a 
place of worship from the same motives that 
they frequent other public places. To some it 
answers all the purposes of a rout or assembly, 
to see and be seen by their acquaintance ; and 
from their bows, nods, courtesies, and loud con- 
versation, one might conclude, that they ima- 
gined themselves in a drawing-room. Toothers 
it affords the cheap opportunity of showing 
their taste for dress. Not a few, I believe, are 
dx'awn together in our cathedrals and larger 
churches by the influence of the music rather 
than the prayers ; and are kept awake by a jig 
from the organ-loft, though they are lulled to sleep 
by the harangue from the pulpit. A well-dis- 
posed Christian will go a mile from his own 
house to the Temple Church, not because a 
Sherlock is to preach, but to hear a solo from 
Stanley. 

But though going to church may be deemed a 
kind of amusement, yet upon modern piinciples 
it appears such a very odd one, that 1 am at a 
loss to account for the reasons which induced 



our ancestors to give in to that method of passing 
their Sunday.' At least it is so wholly incx)m- 
patible with the polite system of life, that a per- 
son of fashion (as affairs are now managed) 
finds it absolutely impossible to comply with 
this practice. Then, again, the service always 
begins at such unfashionable hours, that in a 
morning a man must huddle on his clothes, like 
a boy to run to school, and in an afternoon must 
inevitably go without his dinner. In order to 
remove all these objections, and that some ritual 
may be established in this kingdom, agi'eeable to 
our inclinations and consistent with our prac- 
tice, the following scheme has been lately sent 
me, in order to submit it to the serious consi- 
deration of the public. 

Imprimis, It 5? humbly proposed, that Chris- 
tianity be entirely abolished by act of parlia- 
ment, and that no other religion be imposed on 
us in its stead ; but as the age grows daily more 
and more enlightened, we may at last be quit* 
delivered from the influence of superstition and 
bigotiy. 

Secondly, That in order to prevent our ever 
relapsing into pious errors, and that the common 
people may not lose their holiday, every Sunday 
be set apart to commemorate our victory over 
all religion : that the churches be turned into 
free-thinking meeting houses, and discoui-ses 
read in them to confute the doctrine of a future 
state, the immortality of the soul, and other ab- 
surd notions, which some peojile now regard as 
objects of belief. 

Thirdly, That a ritual be compiled exactly 
opposite to our present Liturgy ; and that, in- 
stead of reading portions of Scripture, the first 
and second lessons shall consist of a section of the 
Posthumous Works of Lord Bolingbroke, or a 
few pages from the writings of Spinoza, Chubb, 
Mandeville, Hobbes, Collins, Tindal, &c. from 
which writers the preachers shall also take their 
text. 

Fourthly, That the usual feasts and fasts, viz. 
Christmas Day, Easter Sunday, Trinity Sun- 
day, &c. be still preserved ; but that on those 
days discourses be delivered suitable to the occa- 
sion, containing a refutation of the Nativity, the 
Resurrection, the Trinity, &c. 

Fifthly, That instead of the vile melody of a 
clerk bawling out two staves of Sternhold and 
Hopkins, or a cathedral choir singing anthems 
from the Psalter, some of the most fashionable 
cantatas, opera airs, songs, or catches, be per- 
formed by the best voices for the entertainment 
of the company. 

Lastly, That the whole service be conducted 
with such taste and elegance, as may rerder 
these free-thinking meeting-houses as agreeable 
as the thfatres ; and that they may be even more 
judiciously cahMilated for the propagation of 
atheism and infidelity, than the lU.biu Hood 
Society, or the Oratory in Clare-^Iaiket. T. 



No. 27.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



47 



No. 27.] Thursday, August U, 1754. 



Barbara, Celarent, Barii, Ferio, Baralipton. 

Words full of sound, but quite devoid of sense. 

It is a heavj- tax upon authors, that they should 
always be expected to write sense. Some few, 
indeed, who are rich in sentiment, pay this tax 
veiy cJieerfuUy ; but the generality endeavour, 
one way or another, to elude it. For this pm-- 
pose some have moulded their pieces into the 
form of wings, axes, eggs, and altars, while 
others have laced do^vn the side of a copy of 
verses with the letters of their mistress's name, 
and called it an acrostic : not to mention the 
curious inventions of rebusses and anagi'ams. 
For the same reasons, the modern song-w^riters 
for our public gardens, w^ho are our principal 
love-poets at present, entertain us with sonnets 
and madrigals in Crambo. Authors who pi'o- 
mise Avit, pay us oif with puns and quibbles ; 
and with om* Avriters of comedy, long SAVords, 
short jerkins, and tables with cai-pets over them, 
pass for incident and humour. 

But no artifice of this sort has been so often 
and so successfully practised, as the immoderate 
use of uncouth terras and expressions. Words 
that mean nothing, provided they soimd big, and 
611 the ear, are the best succedaneum for sense. 
Notliing so effectually answers Mr. Bayes's 
endeavour to elevate and sn^mss ; and the reader, 
though he sees nothing but straws floating on 
the surface, candidly supposes that there are 
pearls and diamonds at the bottom. Several dull 
authors, by availing themselves of this secret, 
have passed for very deep wi-iters ; and arrant 
nonsense has as often lain snugly beneath hard 
Avords, as a shalloAV pate beneath the solemn 
appearance of a full bottomed periwig. 

Those Avho are employed in what they caU ab- 
stract speculations, most commonly haA-e re- 
course to this method. Their dissertations are 
naturally expected to illustrate and explain ; but 
this is sometimes a task above their abilities ; 
and when they have led the reader into a maze, 
from Avhich they cannot deliver Iiim, they very 
wisely beAvilder him the more. This is the 
case with those profound Avriters, Avho haA'e 
treated concerning the essence of matter, who 
talk very gravely of cnppeity, tableitij, tallow-can- 
dleitt/, and twenty other things with as much 
sound and little signification. Of these we may 
very AveU say AA'ith the poet. 

Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, 
Amaze th' unlearn 'd, and make the learned smile. 

Pope. 

No mode of expression throws such an im- 
penetrable mist over a work, as an unnecessary 
profusion of technical terms. This will appear 
very plainly to those, who will turn over a few 



pages of any modern collection of A'oyages. 
Descriptions of a storm make some of the finest 
and most striking passages in the best poets ; 
and it is for these in particular, that Longinus 
admires the Odyssey. The I'eal circumstances 
of a storm are in themseh^es, without the aid of 
poetical ornaments, A'ery affecting ; yet whoeA-er 
reads an account of them in any of oiu* Avriters 
of A^oyages, Avill be so puzzled and perplexed 
with starboard, larboard, the main-mast and 
mizen-mast, and a multitude of sea-terms, that 
he Avill not be the least moved at the distress ot 
the ship's crcAV. The absiu'dity of this did not 
escape Swift, Avho has ridiculed it by a mock 
description of the same kind in his Gulliver. 
Those who treat of military subjects, are equally 
ridiculous : they OA'erAvhelm you Avith counter- 
scarps, palisades, bastions, etc., and so fortify 
their no-meaning with ha,rd words, that it is 
absolutely impossible to beat them out of their 
intrenchments. Such AAriters, who abound in 
technical terms, always put me in mind of Igno- 
ramus in the play, Avho courts his mistress out 
of the laAA'-dictionary, runs over a long catalogue 
of the messuages, lands, tenements, barns, out- 
houses, etc. of Avhich he Avill put her in posses- 
sion, if she will join issue Avith him, and mani- 
fest his passion in the same manner that he 
would draAv up a lease. 

This affectation is neA-er more offensiA'e, 
than AA'hen it gets into the pulpit. The gi'eater 
part of almost every audience that sits under 
our preachers, are ignorant and illiterate, and 
should therefore have every thing deliAered to 
them in as plain, simple, and intelligent a manner 
as possible. Hard AA'ords, if they have any 
meaning, can only serve to make them stare ; 
and they can never be edified by what they do 
not imderstand. Young clergjnnen, just come 
from the University, are proud of shoAving the 
world, that they have been reading the Fathers, 
and are fond of entering on the most abstruse 
points of divinity. But they would employ 
their time more to their oaati credit, as well as to 
the improvement of their hearers, if they would 
rather endeaAour to explain and enforce the 
precepts of the Apostles and EA*angelists, than 
retail the confused hypotheses of crabbed meta- 
physicians. 

As to essays, and all other pieces that come 
under the denomination of familiar Avritings, 
one would imagine that they must necessarily 
be AATitten in the easy language of nature and 
common sense. No AAriter can flatter himself, 
that his productions wiU be an agreeable part of 
the equipage of the tea-table, who Avrites almost 
too abstrusely for the study, and involves his 
thoughts in hard Avords and affected latinisms. 
Yet this has been reckoned by many the standard 
style for these loose detached pieces. Addison 
was proud that he could boast of having drawn 
learning out of schools and colleges into clubs 



48 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 28. 



and coffeo-bouses, as Socrates was said to draw 
morality from the clouds to dAvell among men : 
but these people (as Lord Bolingbroke pretends 
to say of the same Socrates) mount the clouds 
themselves. This newfangled manner of de- 
livering our sentiments is called writing sound 
sense : and if I find this mode seems like ly to 
prevail, I shall certainly think it expedient to 
give into it, and very suddenly oblige the world 
with a Connoisseur so sensible, that it will be 
impossible to ^lnderstand it. 

But hard words and uncouth ways of expres- 
sing ourselves never appear with so ill a grace, 

as in our common conversation. In -writing 

tve expect some degree of exactness and preci- 
sion : but if even there they seem harsh and 
disagreeable, when they obstruct the freedom of 
our familiar chat, they either make us laugh, or 
put us out of patience. It was imagined by the 
ancients, that things were called by one name 
among mortals, and by another among the gods : 
In like manner some gentlemen, who would be 
accounted fine spoken persons, disdain to men- 
tion the most trivial matters in the same terms 
with the rest of the world ; and scarce inquire 
how you do, or bid you good morrow, in any 
phrase that is intelligible. It always puts me in 
pain to find a lady give into this practice ; if she 
makes no blunder, it sits very ungracefully upon 
her ; but it is ten to one that the rough uncouth 
syllables that form these words, are too harsh 
and big for the pi'etty creature's mouth ; and 
then she maims them and breaks them to her 
use so whimsically, that one can scai'ce tell 
whether she is talking Fi'ench or English. I 
shall make no more reflections on this subject at 
present, but conclude my paper with a short 
story. 

A merry fellow, who was formerly of the 
vmiversity, going through Cambridge on a jour- 
ney, took it into his head to call on his old tutor. 
As it is no great wonder that pedantry should 
be found in a college, the tutor used to laird his 
convei-sation with numberless hard words and 
forced derivations from the Latin. His pupil, 
who had a mind to banter the old gentleman on 
his darling foible, when he visited him, entered 
his chambers with a huge dictionary under his 
arm. The first compliments were scarce over, 
before the tutor bolted out a word big enough 
for the mouth of Garagantua. Here the pupil 
begged that he would stop a little ; and after 
turning over his dictionary desired him to pro- 
ceed. The learned gentleman Avent on, and the 
pupil seemed to listen with great attention, till 
another word came out as hard as the former, at 
which he again interrupted him, and again had 
recourse to his dictionary. — This appears to me 
the only way of conversing with persons of so 
pompous an elocution ; unless we convert the 
orators themselves into lexicons to interpret 
their own phrases, by troubling them to reduce 



the meaning of their fine speeches into plain 
English. o. 



No. 28.] Thursday, Aug. 8, 17i34. 



-Seq^iar atris igrtilnts absrrs, 



Omnibus vmbra locis adao, dabis improbe pcenas. 

VlRC. 

Thou to thy crime shall feel the vengeance due : 
With hell's black fires for ever I'U pursue ; 
In every place my injured shade shall rise. 
And conscience still present me to thy eyes. 

Tom Dare- Devil, who was so much superior to 
the rest of our Bucks that he gained the appella- 
tion of Stag, finished a course of continual de- 
baucheries, and was carried off last week by a 
phrenetic fever. I happened to be present at his 
last moments; and the remembrance of him 
still duells so strongly on my mind, that I see 
him, I hear him, in all the agonies of despair, 
starting, trembling, and uttering the most horrid 
execrations. His conscience at the approach of 
death had conjured up before him ' ten thousand 
devils with their red-hot spits,' v.-ho assumed 
the shapes of all those whom he injured, and 
' came hissing on him,' to retaliate their wrongs. 
' Save me, save me,' he would cry, ' from that 
bleeding form — He was my friend — but 1 run 
him through the heart in a quarrel about a whore 
— Take away that eld follow — He would have 
carried us to the round-house — I knocked him 
down with his own staff— but I did not think 
the poor dog would have died by it.' When the 
nurse offered him a draught to take, ' Why,' 
said he, ' will you ply me with Champagne ? — 
'tis a damnable liquor, and I'll drink no more of 
it.' In one of his lucid intervals he grasped my 
hand vehemently, and bursting into tears, 
' Would to God,' said he, < I had died twenty 
years ago.' At length his unwilling soul parted 
from the body; and the last words we lieard 
from him were a faint ejaculation to his Maker, 
whom he had blasphemed all his life. His 
shocking exit made me reflect on that fine pas- 
sage in the Scriptures, ' Let me die the death of 
the righteous, and let my latter end be like 
his.' 

The behaviour of this unhappy wretch afford- 
ed a dreadful instance of the truth of that maxim, 
T/icrc is no ficll liJcc a troubled conscience. ' There 
needs, indeed, no ghost to tell us this.' But it 
were to be wished, that the conscience of every 
living reprobate could work on his imagination 
in the same manner, and raise up such horrid 
apparitions to torment him. Where is thL< 
wretch so hardened, who would not be dismayed 
at these terrors? Or who could persevere in a 
course of wickedness, when every fi'esh offence 



No. 28.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



49 



would create a new fury to haunt him for his 
crimes? . •■ , 

Let US', for instance, take a view of the mos-t 
glaring circumstances in the life of that arch- 
infidel, Tom Dare- Devil; and let us at the 
same time conceive (if possible) what pangs he 
must have felt, had every flagitious act been 
attended with the same phantoms that dis- 
tracted him on his death-bed. First then, let 
us contemplate him as a pai-ricide ; for so 
he may be called, who by repeated disobedience 
broke the heart of a most affectionate father. 
Could filial ingratitude receive a sharper punish- 
ment, than in the midst of his debaucheries 
to have his father continually before his eyes, 
expostulating him on his unnatural behaviour? 

* O my son,' might he have heard him say, 

* was it for this that thy mother, who died in 
giving thee life, begged me with her last breath 
to be kind to the boy ? Was it for this that the 
country rung with joy for my being blessed with 
an heir? — O my child, whom can I now call 
my heir? That estate which I was so solicit- 
ous to improve for thy sake, is dissipated among 
jockeys, gamblers, pimps, and prostitutes.— —If 
you should ever have a son, may his ingratitude 
never make you think on me.' 

Tom, indeed, took care never to have any 
vexation from children : he had too great a spi- 
rit to bear the shackles of matrimony, and lived 
in a state of celibacy among bagnios. Some- 
times he made inroads on private life, and dis- 
turbed the peace of families by debauching the 
wives and daughters of his acquaintance. Among 
other gallant exploits, he decoyed up to town the 
daughter of a country gentleman, where he 
ruined her, and then left her to linger under an 
infamous disease. At length the fruits of his 
amour appeared in a child, which soon perished 
with its unhappy parent in a public hospital. 
By the same magic of the fancy let us raise up 
this poor girl with the infant in her arms, while 
he is wantoning among his doxies, and lording 
it like a bashaw over the vassals of his lust. 
What remorse must this villain have felt, could 
he have imagined her to have addressed him in 
the; following terms ! — * Behold in the loath- 
some carcase of this babe the image of thyself; 
foul, rotten, and corrupt.^How could I suffer 
so contemptible a creature to draw me from the 
comfortable protection of my parents?— It was 
just, indeed, that I should fall a victim to my 
folly; but was this diseased infant quickened 
only to proclaim my dishonour and thy infamy ? 
—Why hadst thou yet the power left to propa- 
gate misery even to the innocent !' 

Tom had often signalized himself as a duel- 
list : his conscience, as we have already men- 
tioned, upbraided him at his dying moments with 
the murder of a particular friend. He had 
once ill luck at cards ; and being irritated with 
his losses, and suspecting foul play on the part 



of his antagonist, he took him by the nose, 
which consequently pi'oduced a challenge. He 
is hastening to the field of battle, — but he fan- 
cies himself followed by the manes of his friend, 
Avhom, on the same unhallowed ground, he had 
lately sacrificed to that idol Honour. He hears 
him call—' Turn, madman, turn, and look on 
me. — You may remember with what reluctance 

I met you You foi'ced me to the combat — 

and I was even pleased that the victory was 
yours. You deprived me of life in an idle quar- 
rel about a creature, whom at your return from 
the murder of your fiiend, you detected in the 
arms of another. — It was honour that induced 

you to wound the bosom of one you loved : 

The same honour now calls you to give a fellow, 
whom you despise, an opportunity to retaliate 
the injury done to me. — What folly is it to put 
your life into the hands of a scoundrel, who, you 
suspect, has already robbed you of your fortune ? 
—But go on, and let your death rid the world 
of a monster, who is desperate enough to put his 
own life on the hazard, and wicked enough to 
attempt that of another.' — It happened, how- 
ever, that Tom had no occasion for such a mo- 
nitor, as the person whom he went to meet 
proved as great a coward as he was a cheat ; and 
our hero, after waiting a full hour in his pumps, 
and parrying with the air, had no other revenge 
for the loss of his money, than the satisfaction of 
posting him for a scoundrel. 

Though the hero of our story was cut off in 
the prime of his life, yet he may be said, like 
Nestor, to have outlived three generations. All 
the young fellows of spirit were proud to be en- 
rolled in the list of his companions ; but as their 
constitutions were more puny than his, three 
sets of them had dropt into the gi'ave, and left 
him at the head of the fourth. He would often 
boast of the many promising geniuses who had 
fallen in the vain attempt to keep pace with him 
in the various scenes of debauchery. In this 
light we may consider him as an accessary to so 
many wanton murders. By the operation of 
his conscience, at evei'y tavern door he might 
have met with an acquaintance to bar his pas- 
sage; and in the midst of his joUitj'-, like Mac- 
beth, he might have dashed down his glass, and 
imagined that he saw a departed friend filling 
the vacant chair. 

From the nature of the facts which have al- 
ready been recorded of Tom Dare-Devil, the 
reader will easily conclude that he must have 
been an Atheist. No creature, who believed in 
a Supreme Being, could have acted so vilely to- 
wards his fellow-creatures. Tom was a presi- 
dent of an abominable club, who met together 
every Sunday night to uttev the most horrid 
blasphemies. The members of this most scan- 
dalous society must have heard of the man- 
ner of their great tutor's death : — Let us ima- 
gine, therefore, that they could figure to them- 
H 



50 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 29, 



selves his gbost appearing to them, warning 
them of their errors, and exhorting them to 
repent. They might conceive him settir)g forth, 
in the most pathetic manner, the consequences 
of their folly, and declaring to them, how con- 
vinced he now was of the certainty of those doc- 
trines, which they daily ridiculed. Such an ap- 
parition would, indeed, have an effect upon 
common sinners ; hut in all prohability a tho- 
rough-paced infidel would not be reclaimed, 
even ' though one rose from the dead.' 

What I have heresupposed might have been the 
case of one particular reprobate, is in the power 
of every person to put in practice for himself. 
Nothing is a surer instance of the goodness of 
the Creator, than that delicate inward feeling, so 
strongly impressed on every reasonable creature. 
This internal sense, if duly attended to, and di- 
ligently cherished and kept alive, would check 
the sinner in his career, and make him look 
back with horror on his crimes. An ancient is 
commended for wishing, < that he had a window 
in his breast, that every one might see into it :' 
but it is certainly of more consequence to keep 
ourselves free from the reproach of our own 
hearts, than from the evil opinions of others. 
We should therefore consider conscience as a 
mirror, in which every one may see himself re- 
flected, and in which every action is represented 
in its proper colours. O. 



•v*-w %.•*■< 



No. 29.] Thursday, Aug. 15, 1754. 



Gaudent scribentes, et se venerantur. 

From self each scribbler adoration draws. 
And gathers incense from his own applause. 



HOR. 



That there is a vanity inherent in every author 
must be confessed, whatever pains they may 
take to conceal it from the rest of mankind. For 
ray own part, I readily acknowledge, that I am 
always wonderfully delighted with my own pro- 
ductions. I snatch up the favourite sheets wet 
from the press, and devour every syllable ; not 
the least particle escapes my notice : and X dwell 
with admiration on the beauties of an expressive 
and or emphatical the. If every reader was to 
pay the same attention to my works, or peruse 
them with half the satisfaction, Mr. Town might 
be fairly pronounced the greatest author of the 
age. But I am afraid I shall scarce find another 
who will so heartily join in the good opinion 1 
have conceived of myself; and many a choice 
sentiment, many a culled expression, which I 
have repeated to myself over and over again with 
ecstasy, has by others, perhaps, been as liastily 
hurried over, as any common article in a news- 
paper. 

An author, who is ever big with the idea of 
his own importance, will gather matter for self- 



flattery from the most trivial circumstances. 
On the mornings of publication, I have some* 
times made it my business to go round the cof- 
fee-houses, in order to receive whatever incense 
of praise I could collect from the approbation of 
my readers. My heart, you may imagine, has 
bounded with joy, when I have heard the room 
echo with calling for the Connoisseur : but how 
has it sunk again, when I have found the same 
tokens of esteem shown to a brother writer ! I 
could have hugged any honest fellow, that has 
chuckled over my performances, and pointed out 
my good things ; but I have been no less cha- 
grined, when I have seen a coxcomb coolly take 
up my paper, squint over the first page, and 
throw it down again with all the indifl'erence 
imaginable : though, indeed, I have never failed 
within myself to pronounce of such a person, 
that he is dull, ignorant, and illiterate. I once 
happened to be seated in the next box to two 
noted critics, who were looking over the file of 
my papers, and seemed particularly pleased with 
several parts of them. I immediately conceived 
a very high opinion of their taste and judgment : 
I remarked with singular satisfaction the effect 
which my wit and humour had on their coun- 
tenances ; and as they turned over the pages, 1 
imagined I could point out the very passages 
which provoked them frequently to smile, and 
sometimes to burst into a loud laugh. As soon 
as they were gone, I seized the file ; when, lo ! 
to my great mortification, I found they had been 
reading, not my own admirable works, but the 
lucubrations of a brother essayist. 

My vanity has often prompted me to wish, 
that I could accompany my papers, whereso^- 
ever they ai"e circulated. I flatter myself I 
should then be introduced to the politest men of 
quality, and admitted into the closets of our 
finest ladies. This consideration would doubt- 
less make me vain of myself; but my pride 
would be soon checked by reflecting further, that 
were I oblrged to follow my papers afterwards 
through all their travels and mutations, I should 
certainly undergo the shame of seeing many of 
them prostituted to the vilest purposes. If in 
one place I might be pleased to find them the 
entertainment of the tea-table, in another I 
should be no less vexed to see them degraded to 
the base ofiice of sticking up candles. Such is 
the fatality attending these loose sheets, that 
though at their first publication they niiiy be 
thought as precious as the Sybil's leaves, the 
next moment they may be thrown aside as no 
better than a last year's almanack. 

Ever since my firet appearance in a sheet and 
half, I have telt great uneasiness on account of 
the rude treatment which my works have been 
subject to in their present foi-m. I turned off 
my printer for a very heinous aifi'oat offered to 
my delicacy, having detected some foul proofii 
of my fii"st numbers lodged in a vo-y unseemly 



No. SO.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



51 



place; and I almost came to an open rupture 
with my publisher, because his wife had con- 
verted a supernumerary half-sheet into a thread- 
paper. A lady whose sense and beauty I had 
always admired, forfeited my esteem at once, by 
cutting out a pattern for a cap from one of my 
papers ; and a young fellow, who had spoken very 
handsomely of one of my essays, entii'elylost the 
good opinion I had conceived of him, by defiling 
the blank margin with a filthy list of foul shirts 
and dirty stockings. The repeated abuses of 
illiterate bakers, pasti*y-cooks, and chandlers, I 
know I am condemned to suffer in common 
with other mortal writers. It was ever their 
privilege to prey indiscriminately on all authors 
good or bad; and as politicians, wits, free- 
thinkers, and divines, may have their dust min- 
gled in the same piece of gi-ound, so may their 
works be jumbled together in the lining of the 
same trunk or band box. 

One instance may indeed be brought, in which 
I am used to hail as a lucky omen the damages 
that my papers appear to have sustained in their 
outward form and complexion. With what 
raptures have I traced the progress of my fame, 
while I have contemplated my numbers in the 
public coffee-houses strung upon a file, and 
su'elling gradually into a little volume ! By the 
appearance which they make, when thus col- 
lected, I have often judged of the reception they 
have singly met with from their readers : I have 
considered every speck of dirt as a mark of re- 
putation, and have assumed to myself applause 
from the spilling of coffee, or the print of a 
greasy thumb. In a word, I look upon each 
paper, when torn, and sullied by frequent hand- 
ling, as an old soldier battered in the service, 
and covered with honourable scars. 

I was led into this train of thought by an ac- 
cident which happened to me the other evening, 
as 1 was walking in some fields near the town. 
As I went along, my curiosity tempted me to 
examine the materials of which several paper 
kites were made up ; from whence I had suffi- 
cient room to moralize on the ill fate of authors. 
On one I discovered several pages of a sermon 
expanded over the surface ; on another the 
wings fluttered with love songs ; and a satire on 
tli8 ministry furnished another with his ballast 
for the tail. I at length happened to cast my 
eye on one taller than the rest, and beheld seve- 
ral of my own darling productions pasted over 
It. iMy indignation was presently raised, that 
I should become the plaything of children ; and 
I was even ashamed, that the great name of 
Town, which stared me full in the front, should 
be exposed, like the compositions of Dr. Rock 
on the wall, to every idle gazer. However, by 
a curious turn of thought, I converted what at 
first seemed a disgrace into a compliment to my 
vanity. As the kite rose into the air, I diew a 
flpt+^vjntr T.arallel between the height of its flight, 



and the soaring of my own reputation : I ima- 
gined myself lifted up on the wings of Fame, 
and like Horace's swan towering above morta- 
lity ; I fanced myself borne like a blazing staf 
among the clouds, to the admiration of the gaz- 
ing multitude. 

Via est,' qua me quoque possbn 

Tollere humo, victorque virumvoUtare per ora. 

And up he rises like a vapour; 

Supported high on wings of paper. 

He singing flies and flying sings. 

While from below all Grub-street rings. Swift. ; 

While I was indulging thisTantastic contem- 
plation of my own excellence, I never considered 
by how slight a thread my chimerical impor- 
tance was supported. The twine broke : and 
the kite, together with my airy dreams of im- 
mortality, dropt to the ground. T. 



No. 30.] Thursday, Aug. 22, 1754. 



MuUa viri nequlcquam inter se vulnerajactant, 
Miilfa cava lateri ingeminant, ct peciore vastos 
Dant sonitus ; erratque aitres ct tempora circum 
Crelra rnanus : duro crepitant sub mlnere males, Virg. 

Thunii)s following thumps, and blows succeeding blows. 
Swell the black eye, and crush the bleeding nose : 
Beneath the pond'rous fist the jaw bone cracks. 
And the cheeks ring with their redoubled thwacks. 

At a time when Peace spreads her downy wings 
over contending nations, and when armies (like 
the harmless militia) are drawn into the field 
only to be reviewed, all Europe must undoubt- 
edly be alarmed to hear of the bloody battle, which 
has been lately fought in England. It is a jus- 
tice due to posterity to preserve a faithful ac- 
count of this memorable event : I shall therefore 
set it down, as I find it recorded in those au- 
thentic registers of heroic actions the news- 
papers, without deviating a tittle from the ex- 
pressive tei-ms, in which this extraordinary 
combat is related. 

' Harlston in Norfolk, July 30. Yesterday in- 
the afternoon Slack and Pettit met and fought. 
At the first set-to Pettit seized Slack by the' 
throat, and held him up against the rails, and 
grain'd him so much as to make him extremely 
black ; this continued for half a minute, before 
Slack could break Pettit's hold ; after which for 
near ten minutes Pettit kept fighting and driv- 
ing hard at Slack, when at length Slack closed 
with his antagonist, and gave him a very severe 
fall, after that a second and third ; but between 
these falls Pettit threw Slack twice off the 
stage, and indeed Pettit so much dreaded Slack's 



52 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. SO. 



falls that he ran directly at his hams and tum- 
bled him down, and by that means gave Slack 
an opportunity of making the falls very easy. 
When they had been fighting eighteen minutes, 
tlie odds ran against Slack a guinea to a shil- 
ling ; whereas on first setting out, it was three 
or four to one on his head ; but after this time 
Slack shortened Pettit so as to disable him from 
running and throwing him down in the man- 
ner he had done before, but obliged him to stand 
to close fighting. Slack then closed one of his 
eyes, and beat him very much about the face. 
At twenty minutes Pettit gi-ew weaker. Slack 
stronger ; this was occasioned by Slack's strait 
way of fighting. At twenty-two minutes the 
best judges allowed Slack to have the advantage 
over Pettit very considerably, as he was then 
recovering his wind, which was ow^ing to game ; 
when they had boxed twenty-four minutes, 
Pettit threw Slack again over the rails. This 
indeed Slack suffered him to do, as by that 
means he fixed a blow under Pettit's ribs, that 
hurt him much. Whilst Slack was again getting 
upon the stage, (it was not half a minute before 
he was remounted) Pettit had so much the fear 
of his antagonist before his eyes, that he walked 
off without so much as civilly taking leave of the 
spectators, or saying any thing to any person. 
This the cockers call roguing of itj for it is 
generaEy thought that Pettit ran away full 
strong. The whole time of their fighting was 
twenty-five minutes ; and this morning the bat- 
tle was given to Slack, who di'ew the first ten 
guineas out of the box. Thus ended this dread- 
ful combat.' 

Every man, who has the honour of the 
British fist at heart, must look with admiration 
on the bottom, the wind, the game, of this in- 
vincible champion Slack. How must they ap- 
plaud his address in fighting strait ; and with 
■what detestation must they look upon his das- 
tardly antagonist, who could so shamefully 
rogue it ! Captain Godfrey, the sublime histo- 
rian of these hardy heroes, would have exclaim- 
ed on this occasion : — ' Hail, mighty Slack, thou 
pride of the butchers ; Let the shambles echo 
with thy praise, and let marrow-bones and 
cleavers proclaim thy glorious triumph. What 
was that half-bred bruiser Milo, who is celebrat- 
ed by the ancients for knocking down an ox, to 
cut out the hide into thongs for his cestus ? 
Every petty slaughter-man of Clare-market can 
perform greater feats : but thou with resistless 
arm hast not only knocked down oxen but made 
the sturdy race of barbers, cobblers, and water- 
men fall before thee.' 

I cannot but lament the cruelty of that law, 
which has shut up our amphitheatres : and I 
'ook upon the professors of the noble art of box- 
ng, as a kind of disbandeil army, for whom we 
have made no provision. 'Ihe mechanics, who 
at the call of glory left their mean occupations, 



are now obliged to have recourse to them again ; 
and coachmen and barbers resume the whip and 
the razor, instead of giving black eyes and cross- 
buttocks. I know a veteran that has often won 
the whole house, w^ho is reduced, like Bellisa- 
rius, to spread his palm in begging for a half- 
penny. Some have been forced to exercise their 
art in knocking down passengers in dark alleys 
and corners ; while others have learned to open 
their fists and ply their fingers in picking pock- 
ets. Buckhorse, whose knuckles had been used 
to indent many a bruise, now clenches them 
only to grasp a link ; and Broughton employs 
the muscles of his brawny arm in squeezing a 
lemon or drawing a cork. His amphitheatre 
itself is converted into a Methodist meeting- 
house : and perhaps (as lajTnen there are admit- 
ted into the pulpit) those very fists, which so 
lately dealt such hearty bangs upon the stage, 
are now with equal vehemence thumping the 
cushion. 

The dexterous use of the fist is a truly British 
exercise : and the sturdy English have been as 
much renowned for their boxing as their beef; 
both which are by no means suited to the watery 
stomachs and Aveak sinews of their enemies the 
French. To this nutriment and this art is 
owing that long established maxim, that one 
Englishman can beat three Frenchmen. A 
Frenchman who piddles on a fricassee of frogs, 
can no more encounter with an Englishman, who 
feeds upon beef, than the frog in the fable could 
swell her little belly to the size of an ox ; and 
from hence we may conclude, on the principles 
of philosophy, that the elastic spring which darts 
from the knuckles of an Englishman, falls into 
the heels of a Frenchman. One of my coiTes- 
pondents has already remonstrated against the 
degeneracy of the pi*esent times in our shameful 
neglect of that support of oiu- national strength, 
old English roast beef. Indeed, we can never 
hope, that any of our modern heroes would at- 
tempt to fix a blow under tlie ribs, when they 
are afraid of plunging a knife into a sirloin : and 
I will venture to prophesy, that when the times 
come, that sirloins are no more brought upon 
the table, we shall not be able to produce one 
Englishman who can knock down an ox. 

Our present race of spindle-shanked beaux 
had rather close with an orange wench at the 
play-house than engage in a bye-battle at Tot- 
tenham- Coui't. It is therefore no wonder that 
they should object to this manly practice, for 
which they are so ill fitted. How can we im- 
agine, that they could stand against the buffets 
of a bruiser, when they might almost be patted 
down with the fan of a lady ? An attempt was 
once made by Broughton to bring this study in 
vogue, by establishing a school for boxing, in 
which he was himself to be the lecturer. He 
invited the young gentlemen of the "army, and 
all other men of spirit, to engage under his di- 



No. 31.] 



TPIE CONNOISSEUR. 



53 



rections ; and promised to arm their feeble wrists 
with mufflers, so that nothing might be appre- 
hended by the softest head or tenderest skin. A 
fifw, indeed, were hardy enough to try a fall 
with him ; but most of our young fellows gare 
up the gauntlet for scented gloves ; and loathing 
the mutton fists of vulgar carmen and porters, 
they rather chose to hang their hands in a sling, 
to make them white and delicate as a lady's. I 
cannot but regret, that this design was not gene- 
rally encouraged, as it might perhaps have abol- 
ished almost the only use that is at present made 
of the sword ; and men of honour, instead of 
tQting at each othex*, might have had satisfaction 
in a tight set-to behind Montague-house. 

The amusement of boxing, I must confess, is 
more immediately calculated for the vulgar who 
can have no relish for the more refined pleasures 
of whist and the hazard table. Men of fashion 
have found out a more genteel emplojTuent for 
their hands, in shuffling a pack of cards and 
shaking the dice : and, indeed, it will appear, 
upon a strict review, that most of our fashionable 
diversions are nothing else but different branch- 
es of gaming. What lady would be able to 
boast a rout at her house, consisting of three or 
four hundred persons, if they were not to be 
drawn together by the charms of playing a 
rubber ? and the prohibition of our jubUee mas- 
querades is hardly to be regretted, as they want- 
ed the most essential part of their entertain- 
ments, the E O table. To this polite spirit of 
gaming, which has diffused itself through all the 
fashionable world, is owing the vast encourage- 
m^ent that is given to the turf; and horse-races 
are esteemed only as they afford occasion for 
making a bet. The same spix'it likew^ise di'aws 
the knowing ones together in a cock-pit ; and 
cocks are rescued fi'om the dunghiU, and armed 
with gaffles, to furnish a new species of gaming. 
P'or this reason, among others, I cannot but 
regret the loss of our elegant amusements in 
Oxford Road and Tottenham Court. A great 
part of the spectators used to be deeply interest- 
ed in what was doing on the stage, and were as 
earnest to make an advantage of the issue of the 
battle, as the champions themselves to draw the 
largest srnn from the box. The amphitheatre 
was at once a school for boxing and gaming. 
Many thousands have depended upon a match ; 
the odds have often risen at a black eye ; a large 
bet has been occasioned by a cross-buttock; and 
while the house has resounded with the lusty 
bangs of the combatants, it has at the same time 
echoed with the cries of five to one, six to one, 
ten to one. 

The loss of this branch of gaming is a public 
calamity : and I doubt not but the gentlemen at 
White's and all others whom it concerns, wiU 
use their utmost endeavours to restore it. The 
many plates given all over the kingdom have 
undoubtedly improved our breed of horses ; and 



if the diversion of boxing was to meet with 
equal encouragement, we should certainly have 
a more stout and hardy race of bruisers. It 
might perhaps become a fashion for gentlemen, 
who were fond of the sport, to keep champions 
in training, put them in sweats, diet them and 
breed up the human species with the same care 
as they do cocks and horses. In course of time 
this branch of gaming, like all others, would 
doubtless be reduced to a science ; and B rough- 
ton, in imitation of that great genius Hoyle, 
might oblige the public with a Treatise on the 
Fist, and calculations for laying the odds at any 
match of boxing. T. 



No. 31.] Thursday, Aug. 29, 1754, 



Neu, pueri, neu tctnta animis assuesciie beHa. Virq. 

No more ye bloods, encounter with each otlier. 
But each fine gentleman embrace his brother. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



You must have observed a paragraph in the 
newspapers dated from Dublin, which informs 
us, ' the spirit of duelling is now become so 
common, that scarce a day passes without one or 
more being fought in or near that metropolis.' 
I am very much alarmed lest this madness should 
cross the seas : to say the truth, I almost begin 
to think it necessary, that the frequent importa- 
tion of Irishmen into this kingdom should, for 
some time, be prohibited ; and an embargo laid 
on those ships, that are freighted with contra- 
band duellists. It is your duty, Mr. Town, at 
least to do all in youi* power to prevent the influ- 
ence, which the conduct of these heroic gentle- 
men, who cannot suffer their swords to sleep 
quietly in their scabbards, may have on our 
young fellows : I must therefore beg of you to 
put together a few thoughts on this occasion, 
and though the subject has been often treated 
before, I cannot but imagine that there is suffi- 
cient room left for you to expatiate on it. It is 
usual among the bishops, when they find any 
particular vice prevail, to send orders to the 
clergy of their respective dioceses to preach 
against it. In like manner it is your duty, as 
Censor General, to attack the reigning foUies ; 
and it is sm-ely as easy for you to throw them 
into a new light, as it is for the clergy to pi'each 
different sei'mons on the same text. 

You will undoubtedly agi'ee with me, that 
gaming is one of the principal causes of duels, 
and that many a young fellow has owed his 
death to cards and dice. As the gaming-houses 
are often filled with rogues in lace, and sharpers 
in embroidery, an honest but rash adventurer 
often loses his temper with his money, and be- 



54: 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 31. 



gins to suspect thjit the cards are packed, br the 
dice loaded : and then very wisely risks his life, 
because he finds it impossible to recover his 
cash. Upon this account I am never witness 
to deep play, but it raises very serious reflections 
in me. When I ha», e seen a young nobleman 
offer a large stake, I have considered him as 
setting his life upon a card, or (like King Rich- 
ard) ' laying it upon a cast, and standing the 
hazard of the die.' I have even imagined, that 
I heard bullets rattle in the dice-box, and that I 
saw challenges written upon every card on the 
table. 

The ladies also are frequently the cause of 
duels ; though it must be owned, in justice to 
the better part of the sex, that where one is 
fought on account of a modest women, ten are 
occasioned by prostitutes. The stout knight- 
errants, who entertain a passion for the faithless 
Dulcineas of Drury-lane and Covent- Garden, 
findf^frequent opportunities of manifesting their 
prowess. They not only encounter with bullies 
and bravoes, but sometimes meet with other 
inamoratos as fond and as mad as themselves. 
I am personally acquainted with two gentlemen 
of this turn, who held out pistols at each other, 
across a bed at one of these ladies' lodgings, and 
tossed up which should fire first. The pistol, 
however, luckily missed fire, and gave them 
time to think better of it ; so they very amicably 
shook hands, laid down their pistols, and went 
to bed to the lady together. These females are 
not content, it seems, with the conquests com- 
monly made by the fair, but often pass a more 
eruel sentence on their captives. Their lovers 
not only suffer those metaphorical deaths, which 
all their tribe must endure, but are often really 
killed in serious truth and sober sadness. They 
are not only shot through the heart by an acci- 
dental glance of the eyes, but often have a brace 
of balls lodged in their heads : and are not only 
* stabbed through the liver (as Mercutio has it) 
by the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft,' but they 
may, perhaps, be engaged in a duel with a rival 
in which they are run through the body. 

A foreign Count was once challenged by one 
of these hot-headed gentlemen ; and I shall con- 
clude my letter by recommending his method to 
our modern duellists. The place of battle ap- 
pointed was the Count's house ; and when the 
furious challenger came in, breathing nothing 
but revenge, he wns surprised to find the Count 
sitting very composedly with a candle and a bar- 
rel at his side. * This, Sir,' said the Count, 
'is a barrel of gunpowder ; and if you please, 
we will take our chance, who shall set fire to it, 
you or I.' The gentleman, amazed at so ex- 
traordinary a proposal, made no answer ; upon 
which the Count lighted a match, and waving 
it over the mouth of the barrel, cried out, ' Get 
out of the room, Sir, or I will set fire to the 
powder this instant.' This abated our chal- 



lenger's wrath so considerably, that the Count 
was rid of him in a rooment, and he was glad 
to leave the room without any satisfaction. — I 
shall expect something from you on this subject, 
and am, 

Sir, your humble Servant, 
Ephkaim Makepeacb. 

I shall not refuse, in compliance with the re- 
quest of my correspondent, to give my animad- 
versions on this subject; but as I am not in- 
clined to measure swords on this occasion with 
any of my predecessors or contemporaries, I 
shall take a different course, and appear in the 
cause' as an advocate for duelling. The vices 
and follies of the fashionable world are so con- 
nected with each other, that they almost form 
a regular system ; and the practice of them all 
is absolutely necessary to complete the character 
of a fine gentleman. A fine gentleman (in the 
modern sense of the word) is one that whores, 
games, and wears a sword. Running after 
loose women is, indeed, in some measure com- 
mon to this exalted part of mankind with the 
vulgar; but to live in bagnios, to be kept in re- 
pair by Rock or Ward by the quarter, to be in a 
continual course of pill and electuary, and to 
make a business of fornication, is the peculiar 
privilege of a fine gentleman. Gaming is also 
an essential requisite to this character, and is 
indeed capable of itself to create a person a gen- 
tleman, who has no other pretensions to that 
title. The greatest scoundrels, provided they 
were gamesters, have always been permitted to 
associate with people of fashion ; and, perhaps, 
they hold their title to the best company by the 
same tenure that the knaves keep their rank 
among the honours in a pack of cards. But the 
grand distinguishing mark of a fine gentleman 
is the wearing a sword. Gentility displays it- 
self in a well fancied sword knot, and honour 
lies sheathed in the scabbard. All who bear 
arms have a claim to this character; even our 
common soldiers (like the knights of old) are 
dubbed gentlemen on the shoulder; with this 
only difference, that, instead of the sword, the 
ceremony is performed by a brown musket. 

Upon these and many other weighty consi- 
derations, 1 have resolved not to disturb the 
tranquillity of the polite world, by railing at 
their darling vices. A Censor may endeavour 
to new cock a hat, to raise the stays, or write 
down the short petticoat, at his pleasure. Per- 
sons of quality will vary fashions of themselves, 
but will always adhere steadily to their vices, 
I have besides received several letters from sur- 
geons and younger brothers, desiring mt to pro- 
mote as far as lies in my power the modern way 
of life, and especially the practice of duelling. 
The former open their case in the most pathetic 
terms, and assure me if it was rot for duels, 
and the amorous rencounters of fine gentlemen 



No. 32.-] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



with the other sex, their profession would scarce 
support them. As to the young gentlemeD, they 
inveigh bitterly against the unequal distribution 
of property by the laws of England, and offer me 
very considerable bribes, if I will espouse the 
cause of duels and debauchery ; without which 
they scarce have any tolerable chance of coming 
in for the family estate. 

Swift somewhere observes, that these differ- 
ences very rarely happen among men of sense, and 
he does not see any great harm, if two worthless 
fellows send each other out of the world. I 
shall therefore humbly propose, the more effec- 
tually to keep up this spirit, that duels may be in- 
cluded in the Licence- Act among our other pub- 
lic diversions, with a restraining clause, taking 
away all power from the justices to prohibit 
these entertainments. I would also propose, for 
the better accommodation of the public, that 
scaffolds be erected behind Montague-house, or 
in any other convenient place, as there are now 
at Tyburn ; and that whenever any two gentle- 
men quarrel, they shall insert their challenges 
in the daily papers, after the following manner, 
in imitation of the late champions at Brough- 
ton's Amphitheatre. 

I, John Mac- Duel, having been affronted by 
Richard Flash, hereby challenge him to meet 
me behind Montague-house on the day of 

to go through all the exercise of the small 
sword ; to advance, retire, parry, and thrust in 
carte, tierce, and segoon, and to take my life, or 
lose his own. 

John Mac-Duel. 

I, Richard Flash, who have spitted many 
such dastardly fellows on my sword like larks, 
promise to meet John Mac-Duel, and doubt 
not, by running him through the body, to give 
him gentleman-like satisfaction. 

Richard Flash. 

By this scheme the public would have an op- 
portunity of being present at these fashionable 
amusements, and might revive that lost species 
of gaming (so much lamented in our last paper) 
by laying bets on the issue of the combat. 

It should also be provided, that if either or 
both are killed, the body or bodies be delivered 
to the surgeons to be anatomized, and placed in 
their hall ; unless the younger brother or next 
heir shall give them an equivalent. 

It should also be provided by the above-men- 
tioned act, that no person be qualified to fight a 
due), who is not worth £500 per ann. For as it 
is unsportsman-like to admit dunghill cocks into 
the pit, so it would render this inestimable pri- 
vilege less valuable, if every mean wretch had a 
right of being run through the body, who could 
do the public no service by his death. 
T. 



No. 32.] Thursday, Sept. 5, 1764. 



EmunctcE tuiris- 



55 



HOR. 



A plain blunt fellow, who, like scented beaux, 
"With vile pulvilio ne'er begrim'd his nose. 

TO MR. TOWN, 
Sir, 
1 KNOW not whether you yourself are addicted 
to a filthy practice, which is fi*equent among all 
ranks of people, though detestable even among 
the lowest. The practice I mean is that of 
snuff-taking: which 1 cannot help regardirT as 
a national plague, that, like another epidemic 1 
distemper, has taken hold of our noses. You 
authors may perhaps claim it as a privilege, since 
snuff is supposed by you to whet the invention, 
and every one is not possessed of Bayes's admi- 
rable receipt, the ' spirit of brains:' but give 

me leave to tell you, that snuff should no more 
be administered in public, than Major's medici- 
nal composition at four-pence a pinch, or any 
other dose of physic. I know not why people 
should be allowed to annoy their friends and 
acquaintance by smearing their noses w^ith a 
dirty powder, any more than in using an eye- 
water, or rubbing their teeth with a dentrifice. 
If a stranger to this nasty custom was to ob- 
serve almost every one < drawing out his pouncet 
box, and ever and anon giving it to his nose,' he 
would be led to conclude, that we were no better 
than a nation of Hottentots ; and that every one 
was obliged to cram his nostrils with a quantity 
of scented dirt to fence them from the disagree- 
able effluvia of the rest of the company. Indeed, 
it might not be absurd in such a stranger to ima- 
gine, that the person he conversed with took 
snuff, for the same reason that another might 
press his nostrils together between his finger 
and thumb, to exclude an ill smell. 

It is customary among those polite people, the 
Dutch, to carry with them every Avhere their 
short dingy pipes, and smoke and spit about a 
room even in the presence of ladies. This piece 
of good breeding, however ridiculous it may 
seem, is surely not more offensive to good man- 
ners than the practice of snuff-taking. A very 
Dutchman would think it odd, that a people 
who pretend to politeness, should be continually 
snuflSng up a parcel of tobacco dust ; nor can I 
help laughing, when I see a man every minute 
stealing out a dirty muckender, then sneaking 
it in again, as much ashamed of his pocket com- 
panion as be would be to carry a dishclout about 
him. 

It is, indeed, impossible to go into any large 
company without being disturbed by this abo- 
minable practice. The church and the playhouse 
continually echo with this music of the nose, 
and in every corner you may heai- them in con - 



56 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. .t::. 



cert snuffling, sneezing, hawking, and grunting, 
lilie a drove of hogs. The most pathetic speech 
in a tragedy has been interrupted by the blow- 
ing of noses in the front and side boxes ; and I 
have known a whole congregation suddenly rais- 
ed from their knees in the middle of a prayer by 
the violent coughing of an old lady, who has 
been almost choked by a pinch of snuff in giving 
vent to an ejaculation. A celebrated actor has 
spoiled his voice by this absurd treatment of his 
nose, which has made his articulation as dull 
and drowsy as the hum of a bagpipe ; and the 
parson of our parish is often forced to break off 
in the middle of a period, to snort behind his 
white handkerchief. 

Is it not a wonder, Mr. Town, that snufF, 
which is certainly an enemy to dress, should yet 
gain admittance among those who have no other 
merit than their clothes ? I am not to be told, 
that your men of fashion take snufF only to dis- 
play a white hand, perhaps, or the brilliancy of 
a diamond ring : and I am confident, that num- 
bers would never have defiled themselves with 
the use of snuff, had they not been seduced by 
the charms of a fashionable box. The man of 
taste takes his Strasburg veritable tabac from a 

right Paris paper box ; and the pretty fellow 
uses an enamelled box lined in the inside with 
polished metal, that by often opening it, he may 
have the opportunity of stealing a glance at his 
own sweet person, reflected in the lid of it. 

Though I abhor snuff-taking myself, and 
would as soon be smothered in a cloud raised by 
smoking tobacco, as I would willingly suffer the 
least atom of it to tickle my nose, yet I am ex- 
posed to many disgusting inconveniences from 
the use of it by others. Sometimes I am choked 
by drawing in with my breath some of the finest 
particles together with the air ; and I am fre- 
quently set a sneezing by the odorous effluvia 
arising from the boxes that surround me. But 
it is not only my sense of smelling that is offend- 
ed : you will stare when I tell you, that I am 
forced to taste, and even to eat and drink this 
abominable snuff. If I drink tea with a cer- 
tain lady, I generally perceive what escapes from 
her fingers swimming at the top of my cup ; but 
it is always attributed to the foulness of the 
milk or dross of the sugar. I never dine at a 
particular friend's house, but I am sure to have 
as much rappee as pepper with my turnips ; nor 
can I drink my table-beer out of the same mug 
with him, for fear of coughing from his snuff, if 
not the liquor going the wrong way. Such 
eternal snuff-takers as my friend, should, I 
think, at meal times, have a screen flapping 
down over the nose and mouth, imder which 
they might convey their food, as you may have 
seen at the masquerade : or at least they should 
be separated from the rest of the company, and 
placed by themselves at the side-table, lilce the 
children. 



This practice of snuff-taking, however inex- 
cusable in the men, is still more abominable in 
the other sex. Neatness and cleanliness ought 
to be always cultivated among tlie women ; but 
how can any female appear tolerably clean, who 
so industriously bedaubs herself with snuff? I 
have with pain observed the snow-white surface 
of a handkerchief or api-on sullied with the 
scatterings from the snuff-box ; and whenever 
I see a lady thus besmeared with Scotch or Ha- 
vannah, I consider her as no cleanlier than the 
kitchen wench scouring her brasses, and begrim- 
med with brick-dust and fuller's earth. House- 
wifely accomplishments are at present seldom 
required in a well-bred woman, or else I should 
little expect to find a wife in the least notable, 
who keeps up such a constant correspondence 
between her fingers and nose ; nor, indeed, 
would any one think her hands at all fit to be 
employed in making a pudding. 

It should be remembei'ed by the younger part 
of your fair readers, Mr. Town, that snuff is an 
implacable enemy to the complexion, which in 
time is sure to take a tinge from it : they should 
therefore be as cautious of acquiring a sallow 
hue from this bane of a fair skin, as of being 
tanned or freckled by exposing their delicate 
faces to the scorching rays of the sun. Besides, 
as the nose has been always reckoned a principal 
ornament of the face, they should be as careful 
to preserve the beauty of it as of any other fea- 
ture, and not suffer it to be undermined or 
bloated by so pernicious an application as snuff- 
taking. For my own part, I should as soon 
admire a celebrated toast with no nose at all, as 
to see it prostituted to so vile a purpose. They 
should also consider, that the nose is situated 
very near the lips ; and what relish can a lover 
find in the honey of the latter, if at the same 
time he is obliged to come into close contact with 
the dirt and rubbish of the former? Rather 
than snuff-taking should prevail among the 
ladies, I could wish it were the fashion for them 
to wear rings in their noses, like the savage na- 
tions ; nay, I would even carry it still farther, 
and oblige those pretty females, who could be 
still slaves to snuff, to have their nostrils bored 
through as well as thtir ears, and instead of 
jewels, to bear rolls of pigtail bobbing over their 
upper lips. 

We cannot otherwise account for this fashion 
among the womon, so unnatural to their sex, 
than that they want employment for their 
hands. It was formerly no disgrace for a young 
lady to be seen in the best company busied with 
her work ; but a girl, now-a-days, would as 
soon be surprised in twirling a spinning-wheel, 
as in handling a thread paper. The fan or the 
snuff-box are now the only implements they 
dare to use in public ; yet surely it would be 
much more becoming to have the fore-finger 
piMclced and_8rarified with the point of a needle. 



No. 33.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



57 



than to see it erabrowned with squeezing to- 
gether a filthy pinch of snuff. 

I am, Sir, yom* huioble servant, &c. 
T. 



No. 33. J Tkcrsday, Sept. 12, ITS^. 



At iu stib urlie possides famen mundam, 
Et turre ab alta prospicis meras launis ; 
Pktamque portas otiosus ad Villain. 
Olits, ova, pullos, poma, caseuin, mustitm 
Bus hoc vocari debet, an domus longe ? 



IMart. 



A little country box you boast. 
So neat, 'tis cover'd all with dust ; 
And nought about it to be seen. 
Except a nettle-bed, that's green : 
Your Villa ! rural but the name in. 
So desert, it would breed a famine. 
Hither, on Sundays, you repair, 
Wliile heaps of viands load the chair. 
With poultry bought from Leadenhali, 
And cabbage from the huckster's stall. 
'Tis not the country, you must own ; 
'Tia only London out of town. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I REMEJiBER to havG s88ri a little French novel, 
giving an account of a citizen of Paris making 
an exciu-sion into the country. He imagines 
himself about to undertake a long voyage to 
some strange region, where the natives were as 
different from the inhabitants of his own city, 
as the most distant nations. He accordingly 
takes boat, and is landed at a village about a 
league from the capital. When he is set on 
shore, he is amazed to find the people talk the 
same language, wear the same dress, and use 
the same customs Avith himself. He, who had 
spent aU his life within the sight of Pont-Neuf, 
looked upon every one who lived out of Paris as 
a foreigner ; and though the utmost extent of 
his travels was not three miles, he was as much 
surprised, as he Avould have been to meet with a 
colony of Frenchmen on the Terra hicognita. 

Most of our late novels are, with some little 
variation of circumstances, borrowed from the 
French : but if we should endeavour to adapt 
the novel I have been speaking of to a citizen of 
London, the humour of the Avhole piece would 
evaporate, and the fiction become unnatural and 
improbable. A London ti'adesman is as well 
acquahited with Tm-nham- Green or Kentish- 
Town, as Fleet-street or Cheap-side, and talks 
as familiarly of Richmond or Flampton- Court, 
as of the 'Change or the Custom-house. In 
your late paper, on the amusements of Sunday, 
you have set forth in what manner our citizens 
pass; that day, which most of them devote to the 
country : but I wish you had been more par- 
ticular in your descriptions of those elegant 



niral mansions, winch at once show the opulence 
and the taste of our principal merchants, mecha- 
nics, and artificers. 

In these dusty retreats, where tlie want of 
London smoke is supplied by the smoke of Vir- 
ginia tobacco, our chief citizens are accustomed 
to pass the end and the beginning of every week. 
Their boxes (as they are modestly called) are 
generally built in a row, to resemble as much as 
possible the streets in London. Those edifices 
wiiich stand single, and at a distance fi'om the 
road, have always a summer-house at the end oi 
a small garden ; which being erected upon«^ 
wall adjoining to the highway, commands a, 
view of every carriage, and gives the owner an 
opportunity of displaying his best wig to every 
one that pf sses by. A little artificial fcimtain, 
spouting water sometimes to the amazing height 
of foiu- feet, and in which fi'ogs supply the want 
of fishes, is one of the most exquisite ornaments 
in these gardens. There are besides (if the spot 
of gTound allows sufficient space for them) very 
curious statues of Harlequin, Scaramouch, 
Pierrot, and Columbine, which serve to remind 
then* wives and daughters of what they have 
seen at tlie play-house. 

I went last Sunday, in compliance with a 
most pressing invitation from a friend, to spend 
the whole day with him at one of these little 
seats, which he had fitted up for his retirement 
once a week from busiiiej^s. It is pleasantly 
situated about three miles from London, on the 
side of a public road, from wliish it is separated 
by a dry ditch, over which is a little bridge con- 
sisting of two naiTow planks, leading to the 
house. The hedge on the other side the road 
cuts off all prospect whatsoever, except from the 
garrets, from whence indeed you have a beauti- 
ful vista of two men hanging in chains on Ken- 
nigton common, with a distant view of St. 
Paul's cupola enveloped in a cloud of smoke. I 
set out on my visit betimes in tlie morning, 
accompanied by my friend's book-keeper, who 
was my guide, and carried oA'er with him the 
London Evening Post, his mistress's hoop, and 
a dozen of pipes, which they are afraid to trust 
in the chair. When I came to the end of my 
walk, I found my friend sitting at the door, in a 
black velvet cap, smoking his morning pipe. 
He welcomed me into the country ; and after 
having made me observe the tiu-npike on my left 
and the Golden Wheatsheaf on my right he 
conducted me into his house, v.'here I was re- 
ceived by his lady, who made a thousand apolo- 
gies for being catched in such a dishabille. 

The hall (for so I was taught to call it) had 
its white wail almost hid by a cm-ious collection 
of prints and paintings. On one side was a 
large map of London, a plan and elevation of 
the Mansion- House, with several lesser views of 
the public buildings and halls ; on the other was 
the Death of the Stag, by the happy poncU of 



58 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 34'. 



Mr. Henry Overton, finely coloured : close by 
the parlour-door, there hung a pair of stag's 
horns, over which there was laid across a red 
roccelo and an amber-headed cane. When I 
had declared all this to be mighty pretty, I 
was shown into the parlour, and was presently 
asked, who that was over the chimney-piece. 
I pronounced it to be a very striking likeness 
©f my friend, who was drawn bolt upright 
in a full-bottomed periwig, a laced cravat, 
with the fringed ends appearing through a 
button-hole, a black livei*y-gown, a snuff- 
coloured velvet coat with gold buttons, a red 
velvet waistcoat trimmed with gold, one hand 
otuck in the bosom of his shirt, and the other 
holding out a letter, with the superscription — 

To Mr. , Common- Councilman of 

Farringdon Ward W^ithout. My eyes were 
then directed to another figure in a scarlet 
gown, who, I was informed, was my friend's 
v/ife's great great uncle, and had been sheriff, 
and knighted in the reign of King James the 
Fii'st. Madam herself filled up a pannel on the 
opposite side, in the habit of a shepherdess, 
smelling to a nosegay, and stroking a ram with 
gilt horns, 

I was then invited by my friend to see what 
he was pleased to call his garden, which was 
nothing more than a yard about thirty feet in 
length, and contained about a dozen little pots, 
ranged on each side, with lilies and coxcombs, 
supported by some old laths painted gi-een, with 
bowls of tobacco-pipes on their tops. At the 
end of this garden, he made me take notice of a 
little square building surrounded with filleroy, 
which, he told me, an alderman of great taste 
had turned into a temple, by erecting some bat- 
tlements and spires of painted wood on the front 
of it ; but concluded with a hint, that I might 
retire to it upon occasion. 

After dinner, when my friend had finished 
his pipe, he proposed taking a walk, that we 
might enjoy a little of the country : so I was 
obliged to trudge along the foot-path by the 
road-side, while my friend went puffing and 
blowing, with his hat in his hand, and his wig 
half off his head. At last, I told him it was 
time for me to return home, when he insisted 
on going with me as far as the half-way house 
to drink a decanter of stingo before we parted. 
We here fell into company with a brother livery- 
man of the same ward, and I left them both to- 
gether in a high dispute about Canning ; but 
not before my friend had made me promise to 
repeat my visit to his country house the next 
Sunday. 

As the riches of a counti'y are visible in the 
number of its inhabitants and the elegance of 
their dwellings, we may venture to say, that the 
present state of England is very flourishing and 
prosperons ; and if the taste for building in- 
creases with our opulence, for the next century. 



we shall be able to boast of finer country seatD 
belonging to our shopkeepers, artificers, and 
other plebeians, than the most pompous descrip- 
tions of Italy or Greece have ever recorded. We 
read, it is true, of country seats belonging to 
Pliny, Hortensius, Lucullus, and other Ro- 
mans. They were patricians of great rank .ind 
fortune ; there can, therefore, be no d()ubt of the 
excellence of their villas. But who has ever 
read of a Chinese bridge belonging to an Attic 
tallow-chandler or a Roman pastry-cook ? or 
could any of their shoemakers or tailors boast a 
villa with its tin cascades, paper statues, and 
Gothic roof-houses ! Upon the above principles, 
we may expect that posterity will perhaps see a 
cheesemonger's Apiarium at Brentford, a poul- 
terer's Theriotrophium at Chiswick, and an 
Ornithon in a fishmonger's garden at Putney. 

As a patriot and an Englishman, I cannot 
but wish that each successive century^ should 
increase the opulence of Great Britain : but I 
should be sorry that this abundance of wealth 
should induce our good citizens to turn their 
thoughts too much upon the country. At pre- 
sent, we are deprived of our most eminent 
tradesmen two days out of six. It is true, the 
shopkeeper and the travelling part of his family, 
consisting generally of himself, his wife, and his 
two eldest daughters, are seldom sufficiently 
equipped to take leave of London, till about 
three o'clock on Saturday in the afternoon ; but 
the whole morning of that day is consumed in 
papering up cold chickens, bottling brandy 
punch, sorting clean shifts, and night-caps for 
the children, pinning baskets, and cording 
trunks ; as again is the whole afternoon of the 
Monday following, in unpinning, uncording, 
locking up foul linen, and replacing empty bot- 
tles in the cellar. I am afi'aid, therefore, if the 
villas of our future tradesmen should become so 
very elegant, that the shopkeepers will scai'ce 
ever be visible behind their counters above once 
in a month. 

Yours, &c. 

G. K. 



No. 34.] Thursday, Sept. 19, 1754. 



'Rcprehendcrc concr. 



._ QiUE gravis J£sopus, qua doctus Sosqus cgit. HoR. 

Whene'er he bellows, who but smiles at Quin, 
And laughs when Garhck skips like Harlequin ? 

The French have distinguished the artifices 
made use of on the stage to deceive the audience, 
by the expression of jVh de t/watir, which we 
may translate " the juggle of the theatre." When 
these little arts are exercised merely to assist 
nature, and set her off to the best advantage. 



No. 34.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



59 



none can be so critically nice as to object to 
them ; but "when tragedy by these means is 
lifted into rant, and comedy distorted into buf- 
foonery, though the deceit may succeed with the 
multitude, men of sense will always be offended 
at it. This conduct, whether of the poet or the 
player, resembles in some sort the poor contri- 
vance of the ancients, who mounted their heroes 
upon stilts, and expressed the manners of their 
characters by the grotesque figures of their 
masks. 

As the playhouses are now opened, I cannot 
better introduce the remarks which I may some- 
times take occasion to make on the theatrical 
world, than by throwing together a few reflec- 
tions on this " juggle of the theatre ;" which, at 
present, I shall consider chiefly as it relates to the 
actors. And I hope to merit the thanks of those 
gentlemen who, while they are solicitous to ac- 
quire new beauties, should at the same time 
endeavoui" to unlearn their faults and imperfec- 
tions. 

We are indebted to the present times for a ju- 
dicious reformation of the stage in point of act- 
ing ; and (by the'bye) I could wish, that the 
same good consequences had been produced with 
respect to our poets. If a perfect tragedy may 
be considered as the most difficult production of 
human Avit, the same thing must hold in pro- 
portion with respect to an exact representation 
of it : for if it is necessary for the writer to work 
up his imagination to such a pitch as to fancy 
himself in the circumstances of the character he 
draws, what less must the actor do, who must 
look as the person represented TA^ould look, speak 
as he would speak, and be in every point the 
A'ery man ? The generation of players that im- 
mediately preceded the present, prided them- 
selves on what they called fine speaking : the emo- 
tions of the soul w^ere disregarded for a distinct 
delivery ; and with them, as Mr. Jolmson has 
obsei'ved of some tragic writers, 

Declamation roar'd, while passion slept 

And, indeed, to this uninteresting taste for act- 
ing we may partly attribute that enervate way of 
writing so much in vogue among the Frenchified 
play-Avrights of those times ; since nothing could 
be so well suited to the mouths of those actors, 
as golden lines, round periods, florid descriptions, 
and a dispassionate amplification of sentiment. 

The false majesty, with which our mimic he- 
roes of the stage had been used to express them- 
selves, was for a long time as distinguished a 
mark of tragedy, as the plumed hat and full- 
bottomed periwig ; and we may remember, for 
example, Avhen every line in Othello (a charac- 
ter remarkable for variety or i)assions) was 
draAvn out in the aame pompous manner. But 
as I mean to promote the art, rather than re- 
prove the artists, I shall dwell on this no long- 
er : for methinks I boar a veteran performer cal- 



ling out to me in the voice of honest Jack Fal- 
staff, " No more of that, if thou lovest me, 
Hal." 

It is sufficient to remai'k that, as the dignity 
of the buskin would be degraded by talking in a 
strain too low and familiar, the manner of elo^ 
cution in a tragedy should not, on the other 
ha,nd, be more remote fi'om our natural w^ay of 
expressing ourselves, than blank verse (which is 
the only proper measui-e for tragedy) is from 
prose. Our present set of actors have, in gene- 
ral, discarded the dead insipid pomp applauded 
in their predecessors, and have wisely endeav- 
oured to join with the poet in exciting pity and 
terror. But as many writers have mistaken 
i*ant for passion, and fustian for sublime, so our 
players have perhaps too much given in to unna- 
tural startings, roarings, and whinings. For 
this reason our late writers (to accommodate 
their pieces to the present taste) having placed 
their chief pathos in exclamations and broken 
sentences, have endeavoured to alarm us with 
Ahs and Ohs, and pierce oiu' souls with inter- 
jections. Upon the Avhole, it must be acknow- 
ledged, that the stage is considerably improved 
in the art of speaking. Every passion is now- 
distinguished by its proper tone of voice ; I shall 
therefore only add, that when I hear a player 
laboriously placing an unnatural stress upon par- 
ticular words, and panting with emphasis, I can- 
not help comparing him to the pavier, who at 
every thump of his rammer cries hern. 

I have observed, that the tragedians of the last 
age studied fine speaking : in consequence of 
which, all their action consisted in little more 
than strutting with one leg before the other, and 
waving one or both arms in a continual see-saw. 
Our present actors have perhaps run into a con- 
trary extreme : their gestures sometimes resem- 
ble those afflicted with St. Vitus's Dance ; their 
whole frame appears to be convulsed : and I 
have seen a player in the last act so miserably 
distressed, that a deaf spectator would be apt to 
imagine he was complaining of the cholic or the 
tooth-ach. This has also given rise to that lui- 
natural custom of throwing the body into va- 
rious strange attitudes. There is not a passion 
necessary to be expressed, but has produced dis- 
positions of the limbs not to be found in any of 
the paintings or sculptures of the best masters. 
A graceful gesture and easy deportment is, in- 
deed, worthy the care of every performer : but 
when I observe him writhing his body into more 
imnatural contortions than a tumbler at Sad- 
ler's Wells, I cannot help being disgusted to see 
him "imitate humanity so abominably. " Our 
pantomime authors have already begun to re- 
duce our comedies into gi'otesque scenes ; and if 
this taste for attitude should continue to be po- 
pular, I would recommend it to those ingenious 
gentlemen, to adapt our best tragedies to the 
same use, and entertain us with the like jealousy 



60 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



TNo. 35. 



of OtheUo in dumb show, or the tricks of Har- 
lequin Hamlet. 

Before I dismiss this article, it may be expect- 
ed that I should say something concerning the 
behaviour proper for our ladies. We must allow 
them on all occasions to roU the eye, stretch up 
the neck, heave the chest, and with a thousand 
little tricks set off their person, if not their part, 
to the most advantage. The pomp of the old stage 
has not yet been altogether reformed, either with 
respect to our heroines or our heroes. A Aveeping 
princess (though, perhaps, she is hurried Qn the 
stage with grief and despair) cannot decently 
make the entrance without being led in between 
two mourning damsels in black ; and a heroine 
must always be accompanied by one or more 
pages, to smooth her train when ruffled by pas- 
sion. The hero now seldom sweats beneath the 
weight of a nodding plume of swan feathers, or 
has his face half hid with an enoi-mous bush of 
white horse-hair : I could also wish (if possible) 
that the manager was saved the unnecessary ex- 
pense of three yards of velvet for the trains of 
his Amazons ; and that the chambermaids (as 
■well as the militia of the theatres) were dismiss- 
ed, and the pages, together with the dirty lords 
in waiting, blotted out of the mute Dramatis 
Persona;. 

Tlie mention of these particulars naturally 
reminds m-e, how far tlie juggle of the theatre is 
concerned in the affair of dress. Many Avill 
agree with me, that almost the only disti-ess of 
the last act in the Fair Penitent arises from the 
pitiful appearance of Calista in weeds, with 
every thing hung in black baize about her ; and 
the players are afraid we should lose sight of 
Hamlet's pretended madness, if the black stock- 
ing, discovering a white one underneath, was 
not rolled half way down the leg. A propriety 
in di-ess is absolutely necessary to keep up the 
general deception ; and a performer properly 
habited, who by his whole deportment enters 
deeply into the circumstances of the character 
he represents, makes us for a while fancy every 
thing before us real j but when by some ill- 
judged piece of art, he departs from the simpli- 
city of imitation, and *' oversteps the modesty 
of nature," he calls us back to the theatre, and 
excites passions very different fi'om those he 
uims at. ^ 

I cannot better illustrate what has been said 
on this last subject, tlian by giving instances of 
two artificci of this kind ; one of which is em- 
ployed (as I conceive) to raise pity, and the 
other terror. 

When the Romeo of Drury-Lane comos to 
die at Juliet's monument, we are surprised to 
see him enter in a suit of black. This, I sup- 
pose, is intended as a stroke of tlic pathetic ; but, 
pot to dwell on the poverty of tlie artifice, it is 
in this place a manifest violation of tlie poet's \ 



meaning. Romeo ia supposed to come post 
from Mantua — " Get me post horses, 1 will 
hence to-night" — so that if our Roscius must be 
so very exact in dressing the chai a ter, he should 
appear at the tomb in a riding frock and boots. 
But a mourning coat will excite pity, " and let 
the devil wear black," (says our Hamlet- 
Romeo,) " for I'll have a suit of sables." — The 
same player, after having acted that noble scene 
in the second act of IMacbeth, in so fine a 
manner, that one would almost imagine both 
the poet and the player must have been mur- 
derers to represent one so well, goes out to ex- 
ecute the supposed murder. A fter a short space 
he returns as from the fact : but though the 
expression in his face is still remarkably excel- 
lent, one cannot but smile to obsem-e, that he has 
been employing himself behind the scenes in 
putting his wig awry, and untying one of the 
ties to it. This doubtless is designed to raise 
teiTor; but to every discerning spectator it must 
appear most absurdly ridiculous : for Avho can 
forbear laughing, when he finds that the player 
would have us imagine, that the same deed, 
which has thrown all that hoiTor and confusion 
into his coimtenance, had also untwisted one of 
the tails of his perivrig ? 



I'^o. S5.] Thursday, Sept. 26, iToi. 



Facundi caliccs quern nonfecere disertum ! Hon. 

The fool sucks wisdom, as he porter sup?. 
And cobblers grow fine speakers in their cups. 

As I am willing to do every thma in my power 
to celebrate so illustrious a body as the Robin 
Hood Society, I have taken the first opportunity 
of laying the following letter before the public. 



TO MK. TOW.V. 



Sir, 



That part of your last paper, in which you 
considered the art of speaking as far as it regards 
theatrical performances, gives me reason to hope, 
that you will not overlook the merits of the 
Robin Hood Society, where that art is practised 
in its gi-eatest perfection. You Avill do well to 
recommend it to the gentlemen of the theatre to 
attend those weekly meetings for their improve- 
ment as soon as possible ; and 1 dare say you 
will join with me in giving the same advice to 
the younger part of our clergy and our lawyers, 
as well as our members of parliament. The 
stage, the pulpit, the bar, and the senate-house 
cannot furnish us with such glorious examples of 
the power of oratory, as aro to be met with in 
this society ; where the most important ques- 
tions in every branch of knowledge are discus- 
sed, and whore the disputants aic all of them 



No. 33.-] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



61 



equally versed in religion, law, politics, and the 
drama. 

The institution of this school of eloquence far 
exceeds any thing that the ancients could boast. 
JSvery sect, that was known among the Gre- 
cians and Romans, has its votaries here also. I 
have seen a tailor a Stoic, a shoemaker a Plato- 
nist, and a cook an Epicurean. They aflfect to 
entertain a profound veneration for Socrates, 
often preferring him to any of the apostles : 
though instead of declaring with this ^'ise phi- 
losopher, that they know nothing, the members 
of the Robin Hood Society profess to know 
every thing. 

r'or my own part, I confess myself so charm- 
ed with their proceedings, that I constantly at- 
tend them : and when I see all their members 
assembled with each his pewter mug before him, 
I cannot help preferring this social meeting to 
any ancient sjTnposiam vrhatever : and when I 
further observe tliem first take a swig, and then 
speak with such amazing force of argument, I 
am apt to conclude that truth, instead of being 
hid in a well, as was said by an old philosopher, 
must lie at the bottom of a tankard of porter. 

There is no grace or excellence in oratory, but 
is displayed in the Robin Hood Society to the 
greatest advantage. Demosthenes being asked 
what was the first quality in an orator, replied 
—action ; what the second — action ; what the 
third — action. Upon this principle one of the 
members, for whom I have a vast respect, is the 
greatest orator that evi'r lived. He never trou- 
bles himself about the order or substance of what 
he delivers, but waves his hand, tosses his head, 
abounds in several new and beautiful gestures, 
and from the beginning of his speech to the end 
of it, takes no care but to set it off with action. 
Tully tells us, that it is the business of an orator 
" to prove, delight, and convince." Px'oof and 
conviction our Society is always sure to give us ; 
for else how could it ever come to pass, that so 
many young men should have learned from 
these disquisitions, that there is no God, that 
the soul is mortal, that religion is a jest, and 
many other truths, which tliey would othei'wise 
never have, discovered. The nature of their 
questions is also for the most part so entertain- 
ing, that the disputes about them cannot fail of 
giving delight : and there is a peculiarity in the 
oratory of the place, which greatly conduces 
to that end. The speakers do not always think 
themselves obliged to drive in 'the dull direct 
road to the point, but indulge themselves in a 
larger scope, that allows room for novelty and 
entertainment. When the question has been 
concerning the veracity of the Bible, I have 
known a gentleman get up, and beginning with 
William the Conqueror, give the audience an 
abstract of as many reigns as his five minutes 
would allow him to despatch. I lately remem- 
ber the question to have been, ' \V liether a bridge 



from Black Friars to Southwark 77ould be of 
public benefit," when a facetious gentleman em- 
ploj'ed himself in denrionstrating the great utili- 
ty of the bridge of the none, and the bridge of 
a fiddle. In a word, our orators are at once se- 
rious and comical ; and they make gravity and 
mirth almost constantly attend each other, like 
their own Robin Hood and Little John. The 
solidity, and, at the same time, the smartness of 
their speeches, are equally remarkable. They 
pun with a grave face, tind make quibbles and 
conundrums with the air of a philosopher. The 
writings of different authors have been compared 
to wines ; but the orations delivered here can be 
resembled to nothing so properly as the liquors 
of the Society; for while they are at once so 
weighty and so sharp, they seem to be an equal 
mixture of porter and lemonade. 

It v/ould be endless to enumerate the advan- 
tages resulting from this society. The wonder- 
ful improvement it has already made in our 
mechanics is very evident. It calls off our 
tradesmen from the practice of honesty in their 
common dealings, and sets them upon inquiries 
concerning right and wrong, and the moral fit- 
ness of things. The Spectator has told us of 
the rhetoric of a toyman ; but you, Mr. Town, 
might acquaint posterity of the eloquence of 
bakers, barbers, carpenters, and blacksmiths : 
you may every day hear discourses on religion 
from the shopboard, and researches into philoso- 
phy from behind the counter. When you took 
notice of the want of learning in our people of 
quality, you ought in justice to have acknow- 
ledged the amazing erudition of our tradesmen. 
The plebeians of Rome were mere brutes to our 
common people ; and I am of opinion, that the 
public room under that in which this weekly 
meeting is held, instead of being furnished with 
the busts of cur English poets, should be adorned 
with the heads of the learned shoemakers, tal- 
low-chandlers, bakers, &c. that constitute this 
excellent society. 

"We may venture to saj"-, that the Royal So- 
ciety and the liobin Hood are the two greatest 
ornaments of this nation ; and, as the former 
now and then gives us an account of their trans- 
actions, it were to be wished, that the fellows of 
the latter would also from time to time oblige 
us with a history of their proceedings. We 
should then see by what means so many prose- 
lytes have been made from bigotry and super- 
stition ; by what degi'ees a young disputant 
from a raw Christian ripens into a Deist, from 
a Deist into a Freethinker, and from a Free- 
thinker (by a very short step) into an Atheist. 
We should also know the effect that the dispu- 
tations at this weekly meeting have upon our 
lives and conversations : and from thence judge 
how much a design of this nature deserves 
public encouragement. 1 have here flung to- 
gether a short account of some of the former 



62 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 36. 



members, and upon a review of it cannot but 
lament, that it seems to be the peculiar fate of 
great orators, such as Demosthenes and Tally 
for example, to come to an unhappy end. 

Mat Prig, a merchant's clerk, was converted 
from Christianity, by the arguments which 
were brought against Revelation. 

Aaron Ben Saddai was converted fi'om the 
,1ewish faith, by the arguments brought against 
Moses and the Patriarchs. 

Will Positive was a strong Fatalist, and at the 
same time a vehement advocate for man's free- 
^vill. At last he gave a proof of his free agency 
by shooting himself through the head. 

Jack Wildfire was convinced of the innocence 
of fornication, used to declaim against the absurd 
institution of matrimony, and at twenty-six 
died a bachelor in the Lock Hospital. 

Solomon Square stood up for the I'eligion of na- 
ture, and the immutable rule of right and ivrong, 
in preference to the laws of the community. 
However, he was unfortunately detected in an 
attempt to carry ofP a silver tankard from the 
bar of the house, and was sent to propagate 
morality in foreign parts. 

Bob Booty was a strict Hobbian, and main- 
tained, that men were in a natural state of war 
with each other. He at last died a martyr to 
these principles, and now hangs on a gibbet on 
Hounslow heath. 

John Dismal, after having argued one night 
against the being of a God, and the immortality 
of the soul, went home and was found the next 
morning hanging in his garters. 

Thomas Broadcloth, Citizen and Mercer, was 
very much admired for his speeches upon trade. 
After he had been in business for two years, he 
became bankrupt, and was indicted for felony in 
secreting his effects. 

Richard Goosequill, attorney at law, was re- 
markable for his patriotism and the love of his 
country. He was convicted of bribery and cor- 
ruption in a late election, in which he was em- 
ployed as an agent. 

Jeremy Crispin, Cordwainer, used constant- 
ly to attend the club for edification, though he 
•was forced from time to time to pawn his own 
and his wife's clothes to raise the weekly six- 
pence for his admittance. In the space of three 
years he had been a Papist, a Quaker, an Ana- 
baptist, a Jew, an Arian, a Socinian, a Maho- 
metan, a Methodist, a Deist, and an Atheist. 
His wife and four children have been sent to the 
work-house. He is at present confined in Bed- 
lam, and calls himself the President of the Ro- 
bin Hood Society. 

I am. Sir, 

O. Your humble Servant, &c. 



No. 36.] Thursday, Oct. S, 1754. 



Non sic incerto imitantur fiaminc Syrtes, 

Kec folia Hybemojam. tremejacta Xoto. Pbopert. 

Our dress, still varjing.'nor to forms confined. 
Shifts like the sands, the sport of ev'ry wind. 

I HAVE somewhere seen a print, representing a 
man and woman of every nation of the world, 
drest according to the mode of their respective 
countries. I could not help reflecting at the time 
that the fashions, which prevail in England for 
the space of a centuiy, would enable any of our 
painters to fill a picture with as gi"eat a A-ariety 
of habits ; and that an Englishman or English- 
woman, in one part of the piece, would be no 
more like an Englishman or Englishwoman in 
the other, than a Frenchman resembles a Chi- 
nese. Very extraordinary revolutions have al- 
ready happened in the habits of this kingdom ; 
and as dress is subject to unaccountable changes, 
posterity may perhaps see without sui'prise our 
ladies strut about in breeches, while our men 
waddle in hoop petticoats. 

In the days of Queen Elizabeth it was the 
fashion for the ladies to conceal and wrap up as 
much of their bodies as they could : TJieir necks 
were encompassed with a broad ruff, which like- 
wise spread itself over their bosoms: and their 
sleeves "were continued down and fastened close 
to their wrists, while only their feet were allow- 
ed just to peep from beneath the modest fardin- 
gale ; so that nothing was exposed to the imper- 
tinent eye of man but their faces. Our modern 
ladies have run into the contrary extreme, and 
appear like so many Rope-dancers : they have 
discarded as much of their clothes as ivith any 
tolerable decency can be thrown oflF, and may be 
said (like the Indian) to be all face : the neck 
and bosom are laid bare, and disentangled from 
the invidious vail of a handkerchief; the stays 
are sunk half way down their waist, and the pet- 
ticoat has risen in the same proportion from the 
ankle. Nor is the lover only captivated by the 
naked chai*ms, which meet his sight before ; but 
our ladies, like the Parthians, have also learned 
the art of wounding from behind, and attract 
our attention no less by laying their shoulders 
open to the view ; which (as a young physician 
of my acquaintance once obsei-^'ed) makes them 
look, as if they were prepared to receive a blister. 
A naked lady is no longer the admiration only 
of a masquerade : every public assembly will fur- 
nish us vv'ith Iphigenias undrest for the sacrifice ; 
and if the next summer should happen to be a 
hot one, our ladies will perhaps imi)rove on the 
thin vesture of the Spartan virgins, and anpcav 
abroad in nothing but a gause shade and lawn 
petticoat. If the men should take the hint from 
the other sex, and begin to strip in their turn, I 
tremble to think what may be the consequence; 



No. 36.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



63 



for, if they go on in propoi'tion with the women, 
we may soon expect to see our fine gentleman, 
like the Highlanders, without breeches. 

It would be endless to trace the strange revo- 
lutions, that have happened in every part of the 
female dress, within these few years. The hoop 
has been known to expand and contract itself 
from the size of a butter churn to the circumfer- 
ence of three hogsheads : afone time it was sloped 
from the waist in a pjTamidical form ; at 
anotlier it was bent upwards like an inverted 
bow, by which the two angles, when squeezed 
up on each side, came in contact with the ears. 
At present it is nearly of an oval form, and 
scarce measui-es from end to end above tAvice 
the length of the wearer. The hoop has, in- 
deed, lost much of its credit in the female world, 
and has suffered much from the innovation of 
short sacks and negligees ; which, it must be 
confessed, are equally becoming of the lady 
of pleasure and the lady . of quality : for as 
the men wiU agree, that next to no clothes 
at all nothing is more ravishing than an easy 
dishabille, oiu- ladies for that reason per- 
haps come into public places, as if they were 
just got out of bed, or as if they were ready to 
go into it. This, while it is the fashion, must 
be agreeable : but I must own, that I could 
sooner approve of their encircling themselves in 
so many ells of whalebone, than to see them 
affect to appear with their clothes huddled on so 
loosely and indecently. This manner of dress- 
ing, or rather not dressing, was brought from 
Paris ; but I would have my fair readers con- 
sider, that as this loose method of dress is cal- 
culated to hide any defects in the body, it is very 
impolitic to suffer all that symmetry and elegant 
turn of shape they are mistresses of, to be 
smothered under it ; since these habits can be of 
no more service to their persons, than paint 
(that other Paris commodity) can add to the 
natural red and white of their complexion, 
though perhaps it may heighten the sallow vi- 
sages of the French. 

But of all the branches of female dress, no one 
has undergone more altei'ations than that of the 
head. The long lappets, the horse-shoe-cap, the 
Brussels head, and the prudish mob pinned un- 
der the chin, have all of them had their day. 
The present mode has rooted out all these super- 
fluous excrescences, and in the room of a slip of 
cambric or lace, has planted a whimsical sprig 
of spangles or artificial flowerets. We may re- 
member when, for a while, the hair was tor- 
tured into ringlets behind ; at present, it is 
braided into a queiie (like those foi'merly worn 
by the men, and still retaining the original 
name of Ramilles), which, if it were not re- 
vei'ted upwards, would make us imagine, that 
our fine ladies were afflicted with the plica polo- 
nica. 

If the caps have pzisscd through many meta- 



morphoses, no les-s a change has been brought 
about in the other coverings contrived for thft 
head. The dimiimtive high-crowned hat, the 
bonnet, the hive, and the milkmaid's chip hat, 
were rescued for a time from old women and 
servant girls, to adorn heads of the fii-st fashion. 
Nor was the method of cocking hats less tlactu- 
ating, till they were at length settled to the pre- 
sent mode ; by which it is ordered , that every 
hat, whether of straw or silk, whether of the 
chambermaid or mistress, must have their flaps 
turned up perpendicularly both before and be- 
hind. If the end of a lady's dress was not ra- 
ther ornamental than useful, we should think it 
a little odd, that hats, which seem naturally in- 
tended to screen their faces from the hear or 
severity of the weather, should be moulded into 
a shape that prevents their answering either of 
these purposes : but we must, indeed, allow it to 
be highly ornamental, as the present hats worn 
by the women are more bold and impudent than 
the broad brimmed staring Kevauhullers worn 
a few years ago by the men. These hats are also 
decorated with two waving pendants of ribbon, 
hanging down from the brim on the left side. I 
am not so much offended at the flaming air 
which these streamers carry with them, as I 
am afraid lest it should spoil the charming eyes 
of my pretty countrywomen, which are con- 
stantly provoked to cast a glance at them ; and 
I have myself often observed an obliging ogle 
or ravishing leer intercepted by these mediums; 
so that, when a lady has intended to charm he^' 
lover, she has shocked him with a hideous 
squint. 

The ladies have long been severely rallied on 
their too great attention to finery : but, to own 
the truth, dress seems at present to be as much 
the study of the male part of the world as the 
female. We have gentlemen, who " will lie a 
whole night (as Benedick says) carving the 
fashion of a new doublet." They have theii' 
toilettes, too, as well as the ladies, set out with 
washes, perfumes, and cosmetics; and will 
spend the whole morning in scenting their 
linen, dressing their hair, and arching their eye- 
brows. Their heads (as well as the ladies) have 
undergone various mutations, and have worn as 
many different kinds of wigs, as the block at 
their barber's. About fifty years ago, they 
buried their heads in a bush of hair ; " and the 
beaux (as Swift says) lay hid beneath the pent- 
house of a full bottomed periwig." But as they 
then showed nothing but the nose, mouth, and 
eyes, the fine gentlemen of our time not only 
oblige us with their full faces, but have drawn 
back the side curls quite to the tip of the ear. 

As France appears to be the wardrobe of the 
world, I shall conclude my paper with a piece 
of secret history, which gives us some insight 
into the origin of deriving all our fashions 
from thence.— The celebrated Lord Foppington, 



64 



THE C O N N O I S S E U K. 



[No. 37. 



among his other amours, had once an intrigue 
with a milliner of Covent Garden, who, alter 
some time, brought a lovely girl into the world, 
and called her after his Lordship's surname, 
Fashion. The milliner brought up the child in 
her own house to the age of fifteen, at which 
time she grew very pressing with Lord i'op- 
pington to make some provision for his daugh- 
ter. My lord, who was never much pleased with 
this consequence of his amours, that he might 
be rid of the girl for ever, put her into the hands 
of a friend, who was going abroad, to place her 
in a nunnery : but the girl, who had very little 
of the vestal in her disposition, contrived to es- 
cape from her conductor, and flew to Paris. 
There her beauty and sprightliness soon pro- 
cured her many friends ; and she opened a gen- 
teel shop in her mother's business. Siie soon 
made herself remarkable for contriving the most 
elegant head-dresses, and cutting out ruffles with 
the most ravishing slope : her fancy Avas, besides, 
so inexhaustible, that she almost every day pro- 
duced a great variety of new and beautiful pat- 
terns. She had many adorers, and at last mar- 
ried his Most Christian Majesty's tailor. This 
alliance brought the dress of all Paris under 
their jurisdiction ; and the young lady, out of a 
natural love to her native country, proposed the 
extending their care to the fine gentlemen and 
ladies of London. In pursuance of this, Mon- 
sieur, her husband, two or three times in the 
year, transmits a suit of clothes entirely a la 
Paris, as a pattern to Messieurs Regnier and 
Lynch, of Leicester Fields and Pall Mall, while 
his wife sends over a little w^ooden Mademoiselle 
to her relations in Tavistock Street. T. 



No. 37.] Thuusbat, Oct. 10, 1734. 



Eja ! sudabis satis. 



Si cum illo incceptas homine ; ea doquentia est! Ter. 

By my troth, you will sweat for it, if you once begin with 
this man : he has such amazing eloquence! 

A CORRESPONDENT wrltes to m.e, that after hav- 
ing considered the art of speaking in the theatre, 
as also celebrated the practice of it in the llobin 
Hood Society, my remarks will not be complete, 
except I take notice of the extraordinary elo- 
quence of the Clare Market Orator. He desires 
me to remember, that this universal genius has, 
from time to time, declared from his rostrum, 
with a thundering elocution, ' that there is but 
one orator in the world, and He is the man — 
that Sir Robert Walpole, and all the great men 
in the kingdom, have been his scholars— and 
that bishops have come to his oratory to learn to 
preach. ' 

I have, indeed, observed with a good deal of 



concern, that the orator lias of late discontinued 
to oblige the public with hi.s Sunday evening 
lectures as usual. Instead of seeing his Oratory 
Chapel shut up, I was in hopes that every 
parish-church in the kingdom would be opened 
on the same principles. How much more salu- 
tary Avere his tenets, setting forth the sufficiency 
of reason, than the cold doctrine of our clergy 
preaching up the necessity of faith ? how supe- 
rior was his form of prayer to our whole liturgy, 
and how much better adapted to particular occa- 
sions?— * A prayer for a sinking bridge! — 
prayer for the White Rose ! — prayer for Jack- 
son's Journal ! — prayer for the heads on Temple 
Bar!' — In these pious addresses he would first 
invoke the Supreme Being in the most solemn 
manner ; then suddenly slide into the familiar, 
and pray — ' that we might not hear the croak- 
ing of Dutch nightingales in the king's cham- 
bers ;' — or on another occasion, ' that our clergy 
might not study Shakspeare more than the gos- 
pel, and that they might be rather employed on 
the evangelists, than As you like it, or Much 
ado about nothing.' 

I cannot but likewise lament the loss of the 
entertainment Avhich his advertisements used to 
give us every Saturday in the newspapers. The 
terms in which they were commonly expressed 
were clear and elegant, and furnished the reader 
with an admirable idea of the Doctor's manner 
from the pulpit. For instance, when he told 
you his text was from Isaiah, and quoted these 
words—' Strt? 10 Jun ! No Ilnvr ! Down with 
the Rmp !' — we might form a tolerable judg- 
ment of the great reverence he paid the Bible ; 
and v/hen he called his assembly, ' The Oratory 
— P. Charles's Chapel,' we might guess at his 
loyalty and patriotism. These were the advan- 
tages which we derived from his Chapel ; and, 
if the Oratory remains shut, I shall begin to 
fear, that things will continue in their present 
shocking state ; and that the scheme lately pro- 
posed in one of my papers, for abolishing Chris- 
tianity, will not take effect; at which I am 
more particulaily concerned, as it will hinder 
the advancement of this great man. For, if 
such a revolution should happen in the church, 
the orator's principles would be found so entire- 
ly fundamental, that he would probably then 
hold some honourable station equal to our present 
Archbishop of Canterbury. 

The public, for these reasons, will doubtless 
join with me in a petition, that this illustrious 
divine would again resume his station in the 
pulpit. At least I could wish, that some able 
theologist, who has been long practised in de- 
ciding on the most abstruse points of religion in 
the Robin Hood Society, may be deputed, in the 
absence of the orator, to officiate .ns his curate. 
I would also recommend it to the members of 
the above-mentioned Societj', to attend these 
lectures regularly ; from whence they naay 



No. 38.2 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



gather stronger arguments for their disputa- 
tions, than from reading Collins, Chubb, Tin- 
dale, Bolingbroke, or any otlier orthodox Free- 
thinker whatever. Upon the whole, I cannot 
conclude without observing, that such is the in- 
gratitude of the age, that the singular merits of 
our orator are not sufficiently regarded. He is, 
indeed, deservedly caressed by the butchers of 
Clare Market ; but had our orator been born at 
Athens or Rome, he would certainly have been 
deified as the god of butchers, have been 
worshipped like Osiris under the figui'e of a 
calf, or have had a statue erected to him in the 
Forum or Market place, among the shambles. 

Thus much I thought myself bound to say in 
praise of the orator and oratory, as he has some 
time ago done me the honour of a letter, which 
I am very glad of this opportunity to communi- 
cate to my readers. The private epistles of 
Tully are very xmequal to his orations : but the 
following letter is in the very style and spirit of 
our orator's animated discoiu'ses fi-om the pulpit. 
I shall therefore present it to the public exactly 
as 1 received it, without presuming to alter or 
suppress the least syllable. 

TO MR. BALDWIN AND TO MR. TOWN. 

1754, July 26. 

The liberty of the press, as you practise it, 
and yoiu* author, Mr. Town (i. e. Mr. Nobody, 
for he dares not publish his name and abode, nor 
confront one he abuses) is the greatest of grie- 
vances ; it is the liberty of lying and slandering, 
and desti-oying reputations to make your paper 
sell ; reputation is dearer than life, and your 

scribbler's blood shall answer your scandal : 

You have published the Scoundrel's Dictionary, 
put his name and your own into it ; he and you 
have often bespattered the orator and oratory in 

Clare Market the oratory is not in Clare 

Market, which is in a different parish ; so that 
you and he lye : * and butchers are [seldom 

blotted out] never there : You both lye, too, 

in .saying that it is calculated (intended) for 

atheism and infidelity. Its religion is the 

" obligation of man to resemble the attributes of 
God to his power, by the practice of universal 
right reason ; believing Christianity of Clu'ist 
railed reason the wisdom of God. — This is the 
reverse of atheism and infidelity and blas- 
phemy." 

The writer of the folloAving, -\vho signs him- 



• This reminds me of a similar defence made by Ward 
the doggrel-writer, whose genius for poetry was exactly 
of a piece with that of our orator for prose compositions. 
.Tacob, in his account of Ward, happened to say, that " of 
late years he had kept a public-house in the city." This 
Mr. Ward highly resented : and in a book called Apollo's 
Maggot, declared it to be a Lye, protesting " that his 
public-house was not in the citj', but in Moor-Fields," 



self a Member of the Robin Hood Society, 
threatens me, that in case I do not px'int hi3 
letter immediately, the question, " whether Mr. 
Tow-n be a greater fool or a scoundrel," shall be 
debated at their next meeting. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I would have you to know, that the person 
as sent you the account of our Club did not do 
right. He represents us all as a pack of trades- 
men and mechanics, and would have j^oii think 
as how there are no gentlemen among us. But 
that is not the case : I am a gentleman, and we 
haA'e a great many topping people besides. 
Though INIr. President is but a baker, and we 
have a shoemaker, and some other handicrafts- 
men, that come to talk : yet I can assm-e you 
they know as much of religion an'd the good of 
then- coxmtry (and other such matters) as any 
of we gentlemen. But, as I said, we have a 
good many topping folks beside myself: for 
there is not a night but we have several young 
lawyers, and counsellors, and doctors, and sur- 
geons, and captains, and poets, and players, and 
a great many Irishmen and Scotclimen (very 
fine speakers) who follow no business ; besides 
several foreigners, who are aU of them gi-eat 
men in their own countrj'. And Ave have one 
squire, who lives at t'other end of the town, and 
always conies in his chariot. 

And so, as I said, we have a good many tip- 
top people, as can talk as well as any of your 
play-folks or parsons : and as for my part every 
body knows that I am a lord's gentleman, and 
ncA'er w^as the man that wore a livery in my life. 
I have been of the Club more or less, oif and on, 
for these six years, and never let a question pass 
me, Mr. President knows It : and though I say 
it that should not say it, I can talk (and so cau 
any of our Club) as well as the best of you poets 
can wi'ite. And so as I said, I expect you will 
put it in your paper, that we have a great many 
gentlemen in our club besides myself. 

Your humble servant, 

T. J-VMES Wait. 



No. 38.] Thursdav, Oct. 17, 1754-, 



-Eqiios ut qui mcrcmifitr.- 



ttoit. 



To have and hold for better and for worse. 
We buy a wife, just as we buy a horse. 



At a certain coifee-house, near the Temple, the 
bar is kept by a pretty coquet ; a piece of furni- 
ture almost as necessary for a coffee-room in that 
situation as the ncAVspapers. This lady, you 
may be sure, has many admii-ers, who are lioW 
and th«>n glad of an opportunity to relieve thetu* 
K 



66 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. S8. 



selves fi-om the severe study of the law by a 
soft conversation with this fair one, and repeat- 
ing on the occasion all the tender things they 
can remember from plays, or wJiatever else Or- 
geate or Capillaire can inspire. Among the 
many pretenders to her favour there is one faith- 
ful swain, who has long entertained a serious 
passion for her. This tender hearted gentleman, 
who is grown so lean with living upon love, 
that one \,ould imagine " the blasts of January 
Avould blow him through and through," com.es 
every evening, and sits whole hours by the bar, 
gazing at his mistress, and taking in large 
draughts of love and hyson tea. Never was 
swain in such cruel circumstances. He is forced 
to bear with patience all the haughty insolence 
of the goddess of bread and butter ; who, as she 
knows him in her power, keeps him at a dis- 
tance, though she behaves with the pertest fa- 
miliarity to the other coxcombs, who are con- 
tinually buzzing about her. At eleven he sneaks 
off pale and discontented ; but cannot forbear 
coming again the next evening, though he 
knows how vilely be shall be used by his mis- 
tress, and that he is laughed at even by the 
waiters. 

If all true lovers were obliged, like this un- 
happy gentleman, to carry on his courtships in 
public, we should be witness to many scenes 
equally ridiculous. Their awkward desire of 
pleasing influences every trivial gesture; and 
when once love has got possession of a man's 
heart, it shows itself down to the tips of his 
fingers. The conversation of a languishing ina- 
morato is made up chiefly of dumb signs, such 
as sighs, ogles, or glances ; but if he oifers to 
break his passion to his mistress, there is such a 
stammering, faultering, and half-wording the 
matter, that the language of love, so much talked 
of by poets, is in truth no language at all. Who- 
ever should break in upon a gentleman and lady, 
while so critical a conversation is going forward, 
would not foi"bear laughing at such an extraor- 
dinary tete-a-tete, and would perhaps cry out with 
Ranger, that ' nothing looks so silly as a pair of 
your true lovei's.' 

Since true and sincere love is sure to make its 
votaries thus ridiculous, we cannot sufficiently 
commend our present people of quality, who 
have made such laudable attempts to deliver 
themselves and posterity from its bondage. In 
a fashionable wedding the man or woman are 
7ieither of them considered as reasonable crea- 
tures, who come together in order to ' comfort, 
love, cherish, honour, or obey,' according to 
their respective duties, but are regarded merely 
as instruments of joining one estate to another. 
Acie marries acre; and to increase and multiply 
their fortunes, is in genteel matches the chief 
consideration of man and wife. The courtship 
is carried on by the council of each party ; and 
they pay their addresses by billet-doux upon 



parchment. The great convenience of expelling 
love from matrimony is very evident : IVIanJed 
persons of quality are never troubled with each 
other's company abroad, or fatigued with dull 
matrimonial discourses at home : my lord keeps 
his girl, my lady has her gallant; and they both 
enjoy all the fashionable privileges of wedlock 
without the inconveniences. This would never 
be the case, if there was the least spark of love 
subsisting between them ; but they must be re- 
duced to the same situation with those wretches, 
who (as they have nothing to settle on each 
other but themselves) are obliged to make up 
the deficiencies of fortune by affection. But 
while these miserable, fond, doating, unfashion- 
able couples are obliged to content themselves 
with love and a cottage, people of quality enjoy 
the comforts of indilierence and a coach and six. 

The late Maniage Act is excellently adapted 
to promote this prudential proceeding with re- 
spect to wedlock. It will in time inevitably 
abolish the old system of founding matrimony 
on affection ; and marrying for love will be 
given up for the sake of marrying according to 
act of Parliament. There is now no danger of 
a handsome worthy young fellow of small for- 
tune running away with an heiress; for it is 
not sufficient to insinuate himself into the la<ly's 
favour by a voluble tongue and a good person, 
unless he can also subdue the considerate parents 
or guardians by the merits of his rent-roll. As 
this act promotes the method of disposing of 
children by way of bargain and sale, it conse- 
quently puts an end to that ridiculous courtship, 
arising from simple love. In order therefore to 
confirm (as far as possible) the happy conse- 
quences of this act, I have been long endeavour- 
ing to hit on some expedient, by which all the 
circumstances preparatory to wedlock may be 
carried on in a proper manner. A Smithfield 
bargain being so common in metaphor, I had 
once some thoughts of proposing to realize it, 
and had almost completed a plan, by which all 
the young persons (like servant girls at a statute 
fair in the country) were to be brought to mar- 
ket, and disposed of in one part of Smithfield, 
while the sheep and horses were on sale in an- 
other. 

In the midst of these serious considerations, 
I received a scheme of this nature from my good 
friend Mr. Keith, whose chapel the late mar- 
riage act has rendered useless on its original 
principles. This reverend gentleman, seeing 
that all husbands and wives are henceforward 
to be put to sale, proposes shortly to open his 
chapel on a more new and fashionable plan. As 
the ingenious Messieurs Henson and Bcver 
have lately opened in different quarters of the 
town repositories for all horses to be sold by 
auction ; Mr. Keith intends setting up a re- 
pository for all young males and females to be 
disposed of in marriage. From these studs (as 



No. 390 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



67 



the doctor himself expresses it) a lady of beauty 
may be coupled to a man of fortune, and an old 
gentleman, who has a colt's tooth remaining-, 
may match himself Avith a tight young filly. 

The doctor makes no doubt but his chapel 
will turn out even more to his advantage on this 
new plan than on its first institution, provided 
he can secure his scheme to himself, and reap the 
benefits of it without interlopers from the fleet. 
To prevent his design being pirated, he intends 
petitioning the parliament, that as he has been so 
great a sufferer by the marriage act, the sole 
right of opening a repositoiy of this sort may be 
vested in him, and that his place of residence in 
May- Fail' may still continue the grand mart for 
marriages. Of the first day of sale proper notice 
will be given in the public papers ; and in the 
meantime I am desired to communicate the fol- 
lowing specimen to my readers. 

Catalogue of Males and Females, to be disposed 
of in Marriage to the best Bidder, at Mr. 
Keith's Repository in 3Iay-Fair. 

A Lady of qualitj', veiy high blood ; related 
by the mother's side to a peer of France ; h«r 
dam came from one of the oldest families in 
Wales, and her great-great-gTeat-grandsire was 
brought over with William the Conqueror. Fit 
to go in a coach and six, and proper for any rich 
tradesman, who is desirous to mend the breed. 
Her lowest price to prevent ti'ouble is £500 per 
ann. pin-money, and a proportionable jointure. 

A Young Lady of £100,000 fortime— to be bid 
for by none under the degi'ee of peers, or a com- 
moner of at least treble the income. 

A homely thing that can read, wi-ite, cast ac- 
coimts and make an excellent pudding. — This 
lot to be bid for by none but shop-keepers or 
country parsons. 

Three Maiden Ladies — Aged — to be bid for by 
none but stout young fellows of six foot, sound 
wind and limb, and Avithout blemish. 

Foui' Widows, young and rich — to be bid for 
by none but tilings of mettle and high blood. 

The Daughter of a country Squire— the father 
of this Lady came to town to sell a yoke of oxen 
at Smithfield, and a load of hay in the Hay- 
JNIarket. "\Mioe-\er buys them shall have the lady 
into the bargain. 

A Methodist Lady, relict of a Knight deceas- 
ed witliin this twelvemonth — would be a good 
bargain to any handsome young gentleman, who 
would comfort her in the spirit. 

A very pretty Young Woman, but a good deal 
ill debt — would be glad to marry a Member of 
Pai'liament, or a Jew. 

A handsome Housekeeper, just come out of 
the country — would do for any private gentle- 
man. She has been used to go in a one-horse- 
chair, and is fit for a citizen's sen'ice on a 
Sunday. 



A tall Irishman, warranted sound, lately in 
the possession of a lady dowager. The reason of 
his being sold is, that the owner (who is mar- 
ried) has no further use for him. 

A Blood of the first rate, very wild, and has 
itm loose all his life, but is now broke, and will 
prove very tractable. 

A Flackney Writer, troubled with the farcy, 
broken- winded, and very poor — w^ould be glad 
to be released from his present master, a book- 
seller, and bear the less gi-ievous yoke of mati-i- 
mony. Whoever will take him into feedmg shall 
have his Pegasus into the bargain. 

A Young Ward, now in training at Eton 

School. The guardian is willing to part with 

him to any lady for a round sum of money. 

If not sold, he will be sent into the country, and' 
matched with his guai'dian's daughter. 

Five Templars — all Irish — Xo one to bid for 
these lots of less than £10,000 fortune. 

Wanted — four dozen of young fellows, and 
one dozen of yoimg women Avilling to marry to 
advantage— to go to Nova Scotia. W. 



No. S9.] Thursday, Oct. 24-, 1754'. 



•Sepiilchri 



Mitte supervacuos honores. 



IIoR. 



These but the trappings and the signs of woe. 

Shakspeare. 

As I was passing the other night through a nar- 
row little lane in the skirts of the city, I was 
stopped by a grand procession of a hearse and 
three mourning coaches drawn by six horses, ac- 
companied with a great number of flambeaus 
and attendants in black. I naturally concluded, 
that all this parade was employed to pay the last 
honours to some eminent person, whose conse- 
quence in life required, that his ashes should re- 
ceive all the respect "which his friends and re- 
lations could pay them : but I could not help 
smiling, wlien upon inquiry I was told, that the 
corpse (on whom all this expense had been la- 
vished) was no other than Tom Taster the cheese- 
monger, who had lain in state all the week at his 
house in Thames-street, and was going to be de- 
posited with his ancestors in White- Chapel 
burying-ground. — This illustrious personage 
was the son of a butcher in White- Chapel, and 
died, indeed, but in indifferent circumstances ; 
his widow, however, for the honour of her 
family, was resolved at all events to bury him 
handsomely. 

I have already taken notice of that ridiculous 
affectation among the middling soi-t of people, 
which induces them to make a figure beyond 
their cu'ciunstances : nor is this vanity less ab- 
siu'd, Avhich extends to the dust, and by wIucIa 



68 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No; 39- 



the dead are made acccssarj' in robbing the living. 
I have frequently known a greater sum expend- 
ed at the funeral of a tradesman, than would 
have kept his whole family for a twelvemonth ; 
and it has more than once happened, that the 
next heir has been flung into gaol for not being 
able to pay the undertaker's bill. 

This absurd notion of being handsomely buried 
has given rise to the most contradictory customs, 
that could possibly be contrived for the advantage 
of death hunters. As funerals are at present 
conducted, all distinction is lost among us ; and 
there is no more difference between the duke 
and the dancing-master in the manner of their 
burial, than is to be found between their dust in 
the grave. It is easy to account for the intro- 
duction of the hearse and mourning-coach in our 
funeral ceremonies ; though their propriety is 
entirely destroyed by the promiscuous use of 
them. Our ancient and noble families may be 
supposed to have particular family-vaults near 
their mansion-houses in the country, and in 
which their progenitors have been deposited for 
a^es. It is therefore very natural, that persons 
of distinction, who had been used to be convey- 
ed to their coxmtry-seats by a set of horses, 
should be also transported to their gi'aves by the 
same number ; and be attended with the same 
magnificence at their deaths, which they had 
been accustomed to in their lives. The spirit of 
affecting the manners of the gTeat, has made 
others vie with people of quality in the pomp of 
their burials, A tradesman, who has trudged on 
foot all his life, shall be caiTied after death, 
scarce a hundred yards from his house, with the 
equipage and retinue of a lord ; and the plodding 
cit, whose ambition never soared beyond the 
occasional one horse chair, must be dragged to 
his long home by six horses. Such an ill-timed 
ostentation of grandeur appears to me no less 
ridiculous than the vanity of the highway-man, 
who sold his body to the surgeons, that he might 
hire a mourning-coach, and go to the gaUows 
like a gentleman. 

There is another custom, which was doubtless 
first introduced by the great, but has been since 
adopted by others, who have not the least title to 
it. The herald's office was originally instituted 
for the distinction and preservation of gentility ; 
and nobody is allowed to bear a coat of arms, but 
what belongs to the family, and who is entitled 
to that honourable badge. From this considei-- 
ation wo may account for the practice of hanging 
the hearse round with escutcheons, on which 
the arms of the deceased were blazoned, and 
which served to denote whose ashes it conveyed. 
For the same purpose an achievement was after- 
wards fixed over the door of the late habitation 
of the deceased. This ensign of death may 
fairly be indulged, where the persons are cinio- 
bled by their birth or station, and where it 
sci'ves to remind the passer-by of any great or 



good actions perfonned by the deceased, or to in- 
t^pire the living with an emulation of their vir- 
tues. But why, forsooth, cannot an obscm-e or 
insignificant creature go out of the world, with- 
out advertising it by the achievement ? For my 
part, I generally consider it as a bill on an empty 
house, Avhich serves the widow to acquaint us, 
that the former tenant is gone, and that another 
occupier is wanted in his room. 3Iany families 
have, indeed, been very much perplexed in mak- 
ing out their right to this mark of gentility, and 
great profit has arisen to the herald's office by 
the purchase of amas for this purpose. Many a 
worthy tradesman of plebeian extraction has 
been made a gentleman after his decease by the 
courtesy of his undertaker ; and I once knew 
a keeper of a tavern, who not being able to give 
an account of his wife's genealogy, put up his 
sign, the King's Anns, for an achievement at 
her death. 

It was the custom, in the time of the plague, 
to fix a mark on those houses, in which any one 
had died. This probably may have given rise 
to the general fashion of hanging up an achieve- 
ment. However this be, it is now designed as 
a polite token, that a death has happened in the 
family ; and might reasonably be understood as 
a warning to keep people frominti'uding on their 
gi'ief. No such thing is, indeed, intended by it; 
I am therefore of opinion, that it ought every 
where to be taken down after the first week. 
Whatever outwai'd signs of mourning may be 
preserved, no regard is ever paid to them with- 
in : the same visitings, the same cardplayings, 
are carried on as before, and so little respect is 
shown to the achievement, that if it happens 
(as it often does) to intersect one of the windows 
in the gi*and apartment, it is occasionally re- 
moved, whenever the lady dowager has a rout or 
drum-major. 

This naturally leads me to consider how much 
' the customary suits of solemn black,' and the 
other * trappings and signs of woe, are become 
a mere farce and matter of form only. When a 
person of distinction goes out of the world, not 
only the relations, but the whole household* 
must be clothed in sable. The kitchen-wench 
scours her dishes in crape, and the helper in the 
stables rubs down his horses in black leather 
breeches. Every thing must put on a dismal 
appearance : even the coach must be covered and 
lined with black. This last particular, it is 
reasonable to imagine, is intended (like a death's 
head on the toilet) to put the owner constantly 
in mind, that the pomp of the world and all pm-- 
suits are but vain and perishable. Yet what is 
more common than for these vehicles to wait at 
the doors of the theatres, the opera-house, and 
other public places of diversion ? Those who 
are carried in them, are as little affected by their 
dismal appearance, ;is the horses that draw 
them ; and I once saw witli great surjuisc a 



No. 40.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



69 



hai'lequin, a scaramouch, a shepherdess, and a 
black satin devil, get into a mourning-coach to 
go to a jubilee masquei-ade. 

If I should not be thought to lay too much 
stress on the lesser formalities observed in 
mourning, I might mention the admirable me- 
thod of qualifying the melancholy hue of the 
inourning-ring, by enlivening it with the bril- 
liancy of a diamond. I knew a young lady, Avho 
wore on the same finger a ring set round with 
death's heads and cross marrow-bones for the loss 
of a father, and another prettily embellished 
with burning hearts pierced thi'ough with darts, 
in respect to her lover. But what I most of all 
admire is the ingenious contrivance, by which 
persons spread the tidings of the death of their 
relations to the most distant parts, by means of 
black-edged paper and black sealing wax. If it 
were possible to inspect the several letters that 
bear about them these external tokens of grief, I 
believe we should hardly ever find the contents of 
the same gloomy complexion. A merry tale, or 
an amorous billet-dour, would be much oftener 
found to be conveyed under these dismal pass- 
ports, than doleful lamentations or reflections on 
mortality: and indeed these mock signs of woe 
are so little attended to, that a person opens one 
of these letters with no more concern, than is 
felt by the postman who brings it. 

We cannot suppose, that black edged paper was 
ever intended to be defiled by vulgar hands, but 
was contrived, like gilt paper, for the use of the 
polite world only. But, alas ! we must always be 
aping the manners of our betters. My agent sends 
me letters about business upon gilt paper ; and a 
stationer near the 'Change tells me, that he not 
only sells a great quantity of mourning paper to 
the citizens, but that he has lately blacked the 
edges of the shop-books for several tradesmen. 
My readers must have seen an elegant kind of 
paper, imported from France for the use of our 
fine ladies and gentlemen. An acquaintance of 
mine has contrived a new sort of mourning 
paper on the same plan : and as the margin of 
the other is prettily adorned with flowers, true 
lovers' knots, little Cupids, and amorous posies 
in red ink, he intends that the margin of his 
paper shall be dismally stamped in black ink 
with the figures of tomb-stones, hour-glasses, 
bones, skulls, and other emblems of death, to be 
used by persons of quality, when in mourning. 

T. 

No. 40.] Thursday, Oct. 31, 1754. 

Periculosa; plenum opus alece. Hon. 

Cursed be the wretch, enslaved to such a vice, 
Who ventures hfe and soul upon the dice. 

TO MR. TOWN. 
Sir, 

i'ouK frequent ridicule of the several branches of 



gaming has given me great pleasure : I could 
only wish that you had completed the design by 
drawing at large the portrait of a gamester. 
This, since you omitted it, I have ventured 
to undertake ; and while your papers on this 
subject serve as a counter-treatise to that of 
Hoyle on Whist, Hazard, &c. my rough draught 
of the professors of those arts may tend to illus- 
trate the work, and stand as properly in the 
frontispiece as the Knave of Clubs at the door of 
a cardmaker. 

The whole tribe of gamesters may be ranked 
under two divisions : Every man, who makes 
cai'ding, dicing, and betting his daily pi'actice, is 
either a dupe or a sharper, two characters 
equally the objects of envy and admiration. The 
dupe is generally a person of great fortune and 
weak intellects. 

Who will as tenderly be led by the nose, 

As asses are. Shakspeare. 

He plays, not that he has any delight in cards or 
dice, but because it is the fashion ; and if whist 
or hazard are proposed, he will no more refuse 
to make one at the table, than among a set of 
hard drinkers he could object drinking his glass 
in turn, because he is not dry. 

There are some few instances of men of sense, 
as well as family and fortune, who haA^e been 
dupes and bubbles. Such an unaccountable itch 
of play has seized them, that they have sacrificed 
every thing to it, and have seemed wedded to 
seven's the m.ain, and the odd trick. There is 
not a more melancholy object than a gentleman 
of sense thus infatuated. He makes himself and 
family a prey to a gang of villains more infa- 
mous than highwaymen; and perhaps, when his 
ruin is completed, he is glad to join with the 
very scoundrels that destroyed him, and live 
upon the spoils of others, whom he can draw 
into the same follies that proved so fatal to him- 
self. 

Here we may take a survey of the cbaracter 
of a sharper ; and that he may have no room 
to complain of foul play, let us begin with his 
excellences. You will, perhaps, be startled, 
Mr. Town, when I mention the excellences of 
a sharper ; but a gamester, who makes a decent 
figm'e in the world, must be endued with many 
amiable qualities, which would undoubtedly ap- 
pear with great lustre, were they not eclipsed 
by the odious character affixed to his trade. In 
order to carry on the common business of his 
profession, he must be a man of quick and lively 
pai'ts, attended with a stoical calmness of tem- 
per, and a constant presence of mind. He must 
smile at the loss of thousands; and is not to be 
discomposed, though ruin stares him in the 
face. As he is to live among the great, he must 
not want politeness and afi"ability ; he must be 
submissive, but not servile ; he must be master 



70 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 41. 



of an ingenuous liberal air, and have a seeming 
openness of behaviour. 

These must be the chief accomplishments of 
our hero : but lest I should be accused of giving 
too favourable a likeness of him, now we have 
seen his outside, let us take a view of his heart. 
There we shall find avarice the main spring, 
that moves the whole macliine. Every gamester 
is eaten up with avarice ; and when this passion 
is in full force, it is more strongly predominant 
than any other. It conquers even lust ; and 
conquers it more effectually than age. At sixty, 
we look at a fine woman with pleasure ; but when 
cards and dice have engrossed our attention, 
women and all their charms are slighted at five 
and twenty. A thorough gamester renounces 
Venus and Cupid for Plutus and Ames-ace, and 
owns no mistress of his heart except the Queen 
of Trumps. His insatiable avarice can only be 
gratified by hypocrisy ; so that all those specious 
virtues already mentioned, and which, if real, 
might be turned to the benefit of mankind, must 
be directed in a gamester towards the destruc- 
tion of his fellow-creatures. His quick and 
lively parts are only to instruct and assist him 
in the most dexterous method of packing the 
cards and cogging the dice ; his fortitude, which 
enables him to lose thousands without emotion, 
must often be practised against the stings and 
reproaches of his own conscience ; and his libe- 
ral deportment and affected openness is only to 
recommend and conceal the blackest villany. 

It is now necessary to take a second survey of 
his heart; and as we have seen its vices, let us 
consider its miseries. The covetous man, who 
has not sufficient courage or inclination to in- 
crease his fortune by bets, cards, or dice, but is 
contented to hoard up his thousands by thefts 
less public, or by cheats less liable to uncer- 
tainty, lives in a state of perpetual suspicion and 
terror; but the avaricious fears of the gamester 
are infinitely greater. He has constantly to wear 
a mask ; and like Monsieur St. Croix, coadjutor 
to that famous empoisonneus, Madam Brin- 
villier, if his mask falls off, he runs the hazard 
of being suffocated by the stench of his own 
poison. I have seen some examples of this sort 
not many years ago, at White's. I am uncer- 
tain, whether the wretches are still alive ; but 
if they are, they breathe like toads underground, 
crawling amidst old walls, and paths long since 
unfrequented. 

But supposing that the sharper's hypocrisy 
remains undetected, in what state of mind must 
that man be whose fortune depends upon the 
insincerity of his heart, the disingenuousness of 
liis behaviour, and the ialse bias of his dice? 
What sensations must he supj)vess, when he is 
obliged to smile, although he is provoked ; when 
he must look serene in the height of de.spair ; 
lind when he must act the Stoic, >vithout the 
gonsolution of one virtuous sentiment, or one 



moral principle? How unhappy must he be 
even in that situation, from which he hopes to 
reap most benefit ; — I mean, amidst stars, gar- 
ters, and the various herds of nobility? Their 
lordships are not always in a humour for play : 
tliey choose to laugh ; they choose to joke ; in 
the mean while our hero must patiently await 
the good hour, and must not only join in the 
laugh, and applaud the joke, but must humour 
every turn and caprice, to which that set of 
spoiled children, called bucks of quality, are 
liable. Surely, his brother Thicket's employ- 
ment, of sauntering on horseback in the wind 
and rain till the Reading coach passes through 
Smallberry Green, is the more eligible, and no 
less honest occupation. 

The sharper has also frequently the mortifica- 
tion of being thwarted in his designs. Oppor- 
tunities of fraud will not for ever present them- 
selves. The false die cannot be constantly pro- 
duced, nor the packed cards perpetually be placed 
upon the table. It is then our gamester is in 
the greatest danger. But even then, when he is 
in the power of fortune, and has nothing but 
mere luck and fair play on his side, he must 
stand the brunt, and perhaps give away his last 
guinea, as coolly as he would lend a nobleman a 
shilling. 

Our hero is now going off the stage, and his 
catastrophe is very tragical. The next news we 
hear of him is his death, achieved by his own 
hand, and with his own pistol. An inquest is 
bribed, he is buried at midnight, and forgot tin 
before sun-rise. 

These two portraits of a sharper, wherein I 
have endeavoured to show different likenesses 
in the same man, puts me in mind of an old 
print, which I remember, at Oxford, of Count 
Guiscard. At first sight he was exhibited in a 
full-bottom wig, a hat and feather, embroidered 
clothes, diamond buttons, and the full court- 
dress of those days : but, by pulling a string, 
the folds of the paper were shifted, the face only 
remained, a new body came forward, and Count 
Guiscard appeared to be a devil. 
I am, Sir, 

Your most humble Servant, 

31. N. 



No. 41.] Thursday, Nov. 7, 1754. 



Qui shidct optafam cursv contingere mctavi, 

Multa iulit fecitquc piter. Ho8. 

Gownsmen with jockeys hold an equal place, 
Lcarn'd in the turf, and students of the race. 

MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 
Dj;ak Coi:.six, 
Tilt following letter, occasioned by the late raips 



No. 41.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



71 



at Newmarket, and written by a fellow-com- 
moner of King's College, Cambridge, to a friend 
in London, fell into my hands by accident. The 
writer, if we may judge by his style and man- 
ner, is really, according to the modern phrase, a 
genius. As I look upon his epistle to be a very 
curious original, I cannot help demanding for it 
a place in your paper, as well as for the remarks 
which I have taken the liberty to subjoin to it. 

To John Wildfire, Esq. to be left at Mrs. 
Douglas's, Covent- Garden, London. 
Dear Jack ! October 10, 1754. 

I was in hopes I should have met you at 
Newmarket Races ; but to say the truth, if your 
luck had turned out so bad as mine, you did 
better to stay away. Dick Riot, Tom Lowngeit, 
and I, went together to Newmarket the first day 
of the meeting. I was mounted on my little 
bay mare, that cost me thirty guineas in the 
North. I never crossed a better tit in my life ; 
and if her eyes stand, as I dare say they will, 
she will turn out as tight a little thing as any in 
England. Then she is as fleet as the wind. 
Why, I raced with Dick and Tom all the way 
from Cambridge to New^market ; Dick rode his 
roan gelding, and Tom his chesnut mare 
(which, you know, have both speed), but I beat 
them hollow. I cannot help telling you, that I 
was dressed in my blue riding- fi'ock with plate 
buttons, with a leather belt round my waist, my 
jemmy turn-down boots made by Tull, my 
brown scratch bob, and my hat with the narrow 
silvex*-lace cocked in the true spoi-ting taste : so 
that altogether I don't believe there was a more 
knowing figure upon the course. I was very 
flush too. Jack ; for Michaelmas-day happening 
damn'd luckily just about the time of the races, 
I had received fifty guineas for my quarterage. 
As soon as I came upon the course, I met with 
some jolly bucks from London. I never saw 
them before ; however, we were soon acquaint- 
ed, and I took up the odds : but I was damnably 
let in, for I lost thirty pieces slap the first day. 
The day or two after I had no remarkable luck 
one way or the other ; but at last I laid all the 
cash I had left upon Lord March's Smart, who 
lost, you know ; but between you and me, I 
have a gi-eat notion Tom Marshal rode boot3^ 
However, I had a mind to push my luck as far 
as I could ; so I sold my poor little mare for 
twelve pieces, went to the coffee-house, and left 
them all behind me at the gaming table ; and I 
should not have been able to have got back to 
Cambridge that night, if Bob Whip of Trinity 
had not taken me up into his phaeton. We have 
had a round of dinners at our rooms since ; and 
I have been drunk every day to drive away care. 
However, I hope to reci'uit again soon : Frank 
Classic of Pembroke has promised to make me 
out a long catalogue of Greek books ; so I will 
write directly to old Square-toes, send him the 



list, tell him I have taken them up, and draw on 
him for money to pay the bookseller's bill. 
I'hen I shall be rich again. Jack ; and perhaps 
you may see me at the Shakspeare by the middle 
of next week ; till when, 
I am, 

Dear Jack, yours, 

T. Flareit. 

I have often lamented the narrow plan of out 
University Education, and always observe with 
pleasure any attempts to enlarge and improve 
it. In this light, I cannot help looking on New- 
market as a judicious supplement to the Univer- 
sity of Cambridge, and would recommend it to 
the young students to repair duly thither twice 
a year. By these means, they may connect the 
knowledge of polite life with study, and come 
from college as deeply versed in the genteel mys- 
teries of Gaming, as in Greek, Latin, and the 
Mathematics. Attending these solemnities 
must, indeed, be of great service to every rank 
of students. Those who are intended for the 
church, have an opportunity of tempering the 
severity of their character, by a happy mixture 
of the jockey and clergjTnan. I have known 
several who, by uniting these opposite qualifica- 
tions, and meeting with a patron of their own 
disposition, have rode themselves into a living in 
a good sporting country ; and I doubt not, if the 
excursions of gownsmen to Newmarket meet 
with the encouragement they deserve, but we 
shall shortly see the Beacon Course crowded 
with ordained sportsmen in short cassocks. As to 
the feEow-commoners, I do not see how they can 
pass their time more profitably. The sole inten- 
tion of their residence at the University is, with 
most of them, to while away a couple of years, 
which they cannot conveniently dispose of other- 
wise. Their rank exempts them from the 
common drudgery of lectures and exercises ; and 
the Golden Tuft that adorns their velvet caps, 
is at once a badge of honour and an apology for 
ignorance. But as some of these gentlemen, 
though they never will be scholars, may turn out 
excellent jockeys, it is but justice to let them 
carry some kind of knowledge away with them ; 
and as they can never shine as adepts in Sir 
Isaac Newton's philosophy, or critics on Homei 
and Virgil, we should sufi"er them to make a 
figure as arbiters of the course, and followers of 
Aaron and Driver. 

I am the more earnest on this occasion, be- 
cause I look upon Races as a diversion peculi- 
arly adapted to a University, and founded upon 
classical principles. Every author, who has 
mentioned the Ancient Games, includes the 
Race, and describes it with great dignity. This 
game was always celebrated with gi-eat pomp, 
and all the people of fashion of those days were 
present at it. In the twenty-third Iliad in 
particular, there is not only a dispute at the 



72 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 42. 



Race, but a bet proposed in as express tonns 
ns at Newmarkft. The wager ofFored, in- 
deed, is a goblet, which is not entirely in the 
manner of our modern sportsmen, who rather 
choose to melt down their plate into the current 
specie, and bring their sideboards to the course 
in their purses. I am aware also, that the 
races celebrated by the ancients, were chariot 
races ; but, even in these, our young students of 
the university have great emulation to excel: 
there are among them many very good coach- 
men, who often make excursions in those noble 
vehicles, with great propriety called Phaetons, 
and drive with us much fury along the road, as 
the charioteers in the ancient games flew to- 
wards the goal. In a word, if we have not such 
noble odes on this occasion as were produced of 
old, it is not for want of a Theron, but a Pindar. 

The advices which I have at several times re- 
ceived, of the influence of the races at New- 
market on the university, give me great pleasure. 
It has not only improved the behaviour of the 
students, but enlarged their plan of study. They 
are now very deeply read in Bracken's Farriery 
and the Complete Jockey, know exactly how 
many stone they weigh, and are pretty compe- 
tent judges of the odds. I went, some time ago, 
to visit a fellow-commoner, and when I arrived 
at his chambers, found the door open, but my 
friend was not at home. The room was adorned 
with Seymour's prints of horses, neatly framed 
and glazed ; a hat and whip hung on one hook, 
a pair of boots on another, and on the table lay 
a formidable quarto, with the Sportman's Ca- 
lendar, by Reginald Heber, Esq. I had the 
curiosity to examine the book ; and, as the col- 
lege is remarkable for the study of philosophy, I 
expected to see Newton's Pi'incipia, or, perhaps, 
Sanderson's Algebra ; but, on opening it, this 
huge volume proved to be a pompous edition of 
Gibson's Treatise on the Diseases of Horses. 

These, indeed, are noble studies, will preserve 
our youth from pedantry, and make them men 
of the world. Men of genius, who are pleased 
with the theory of any art, will not be contented 
till they arrive at the practice. I am told, that 
the young gentlemen often try the speed of the 
Cambridge nags on the Beacon Course, and that 
several hacks are a.t present in training. I have 
often wondered, that the gentlemen who form 
the club at Newmarket, never reflected on their 
neighbourhood to Cambridge, nor established 
(in honour Of it) a University Plate, to be run 
for by Cambridge hacks, rode by young gentle- 
men of the imiversity. A hint of this kind will 
certainly be sufficient to have this laudable de- 
sign put in practice the very next meeting. 
And I cannot help reflecting, on this occasion, 
what an unspeakable satisfaction it must be to 
those persons of quality, who are constantly at 
Newmarket, to see their sons da-rish the same 



noble principles with themselves, and act in imi 
tation of their example. 

Go on, brave youths ! till in some future -nfc 

Whips shall become the senatorial badge : 

Till England see her jockey senators 

IMcct all at Westminster in boots and sj>iir< ! 

See the whole House, with mutual frenzy mml ; 

Her patriots all in leathern breeches clad. 

Of bets, not taxes, learnedly debate. 

And guide with equal reins a steed and state. 

W'arto.n's NEWMARKL!. 



No. 42.] Thursday, Nov. U, 1751. 



Scrmonum stct horws, ct graiia vivax. 

Hoa. 

What energy and grace adorn our tongue ! 
Sweet as the Roman, as the Grecian strong ! 

A FRIEND of mine lately gave me an account of 
a set of gentlemen, who meet together once a 
week, under the name of the English Club. 
The title, with which they dignify their society, 
arises from the chief end of their meeting, which 
is to cultivate their mother tongue. They em- 
ploy half the time of their assembling in hear- 
ing some of our best classics read to them, which 
generally furnishes them with conversation lor 
the rest of the evening. They have instituted 
annual festivals in honour of Spenser, Shak- 
speare, Milton, &c. on each of which an oration, 
interspersed with encomiums on the English 
language, is spoken in praise of the author, who 
(in the phrase of the almanack) gives the red 
letter to the day. They have established a fund, 
from which handsome rewards are allotted to 
those Avho shall supply the place of any exotic 
terms that have been smuggled into our lan- 
guage, by homespun British words equally sig- 
nificant and expressive. An order is also made 
against importing any contraband phrases into 
the club, by which heavy fines are laid on t))ose 
who shall have any modish barbarisms found 
upon them, whether they be foreign words, an- 
cient or modern, or any cant terms coined by 
The Town for the service of the current year. 

The whole account, which I received from 
my friend, gave me great satisfaction, and 1 
never remember any society, that met together 
on such commendable principles. Their pro- 
ceedings, it must, however, be confessed, an 
somewhat unfashionable ; for the English tongue 
is become as little the general care as English 
beef, or English honesty. Young gentlemen 
are obliged to drudge at school for nine or ten 
years, in order to scrape together as much Greek 
and Eatin as they can forget during their tour 
abroad ; and have commonly at the same time a 
piivato master to give I hem French enough to 



No. 42.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR, 



73 



land them with some I'eputation at Calais. This 
is, to be sure, very prudent as well as genteel. 
Yet some people are perverse enough to imagine, 
that to teach boys a foreign language, living or 
dead, without at the same time grounding them in 
their mother tongue, is a very preposterous plan of 
education. The Romans, though they studied at 
Athens, directed their studies to the benefit of their 
own country, and though they read Greek, wrote 
in Latin. There are at this day in France, acade- 
niies established for the support and preservation 
of the French language; and perhaps, if to the 
present professorships of Hebrew and Greek, 
there should be added a professorship of the Eng- 
lish language, it would be no disgrace to our 
learned universities. 

When we consider, that our language is pre- 
ferable to most, if not all others now in being, 
it seems something extraordinary, that any at- 
tention should be paid to a foreign tongue that 
is refused to our own, when we are likely to get 
so little by the change. But when we reflect 
further on the remarkable purity to which some 
late authors have brought it, we are still more 
concerned at the present neglect of it. This 
shameful neglect I take to be owing chiefly to 
these two reasons ; the false pride of those who 
are esteemed men of learning, and the ridiculous 
affectation of our fine gentlemen, and pretenders 
to wit. 

In complaisance to our fine gentlemen, Avho 
are themselves the allowed standards of polite- 
ness, I shall begin with them first. Their con- 
versation exactly answers the description which 
Benedick gives of Claudio's : " their words are 
a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange 
dishes." These dishes too are all French ; and 
I do not know, whether their conversation does 
not a good deal depend on their bill of fare ; and 
whether the thin meagre diet on which our fine 
gentlemen subsist, does not in some measure 
take away the power of that bold articulation, 
necessary to give utterance to manly British ac- 
cents : whence their conversation becomes so 
" fantastical a banquet," and every sentence they 
deliver is almost as heterogeneous a mixture as 
a salmagundy. A fashionable coxcomb now 
never complains of the vapours, but tells you 
that he is very much enmiyee : — he does not af- 
fect to be genteel, but degagee : — nor is he taken 
with an elegant simplicity in a beautiful coun- 
tenance, but breaks out in raptures on a je ne 
scay quol, and a certain naivete. In a word, his 
head as well as his heels is entirely French ; and 
he is a thorough petit maitre in his language as 
well as behaviour. But notwithstanding all 
this, I do not know, whether the conversation 
of our pretenders to wit is not still more bar- 
barous. When they talk of humbug, &c. they 
seem to be jabbering in the uncouth dialect of 
the Huns, or the rude gabble of the Hottentots : 
or if their words are at all allied to the language 



of this country, it probably comes nearest to the 
strange cant said to be in use among house- 
breakers and highwaymen : and if their jargon 
will bear any explanation, the curious are most 
likely to meet with it in a polite vocabulary, 
lately published under the title of the Scoundrel's 
Dictionary. 

Many, who are accounted men of learning, if 
they do not join with fops and coxcombs to cor- 
rupt our language, at least do very little to pro- 
mote it, and are sometimes very indifferently 
acquainted with it. There are many persons 
of both our universities, who can decypher an 
old Greek manuscript, and construe Lycophron 
extempore, who scarce know the idiom of their 
own language, and are at a loss how to despatch 
a familiar letter with tolerable facility. These 
gentlemen seem to think, that learning consists 
merely in being versed in languages not general- 
ly understood. But it should be considered, 
that the same genius which animates the an- 
cients, has dispensed at least some portion of its 
heat to later ages, and pai'ticularly to the Eng- 
lish. Those, who are really charmed with Ho- 
mer and Sophocles, will hardly read Shak- 
speare and Milton without emotion ; and if I 
was inclined to carry on the parallel, I could 
perhaps mention as many great names as Athens 
ever produced. The knowledge of Greek, La- 
tin, &c. is certainly very valuable; but this may 
be attained without the loss of their mother 
tongue : for these reverend gentlemen should 
know, that languages are not like preferments 
in the church, too many of which cannot be 
held together. 

This great neglect of our own tongue is one of 
the principal reasons, that we are so seldom fa • 
voured with any publications from either of our 
universities, which we might expect very often, 
considering the great number of learned men 
who reside there. The press being thus deserted 
by those who might naturally be expected to 
support it, falls to the care of a set of illiterate 
hh'elings, in whose hands it is no wonder if the 
language is every day mangled, and should at 
last be utterly destroyed. Writing is well 
known to be at present as much a trade as any 
handicraft whatever ; and every man who can 
vamp up any thing for present sale, though 
void of sense or syntax, is listed by the booksel- 
ler as an author. But allowing all our present 
writers to be men of parts and learning, (as 
there are doubtless some who may be reckoned 
so,) is it probable that they should exert their 
abilities to the utmost, when they do not write 
for fame, like the ancients, but as a means of 
subsistence ? If Herodotus and Livy had sold 
their histories at so much a sheet, and all the 
other Greek and Latin Classics had written in 
the same circumstances with many modern au- 
thors, they would hardly have merited all that 
applause they so justly receive at present. The 
L 



74 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



TNo. 43. 



plays of Sophocles and Euripides might perhaps 
not have been much better than modern Tra- 
gedies : Virgil might have got a dinner by lialf 
a dozen Town Eclogues ; and Horace have wrote 
Birth-day Odes, or now and then a lampoon on 
the company of the Baiae. 

A false modesty is another great cause of the 
few publications by men of eminence and learn- 
ing. However equal to the task, they have 
not sufficient confidence to venture to the press, 
but ai*e rather guilty of wilful injustice to 
themselves and to the pul)lic. They are also 
ashamed of appearing among the common herd 
of authors. But the press, though it is often 
abused, should by no means be accoimted scan- 
dalous or dishonourable. Though a learned and 
ingenious writer might not choose to be mus- 
tered in the samie roll with or Mr. 

Town, yet we have a Hooke, a Brown, an 
Akenside, and many others, in whose company 
it will be an honour to appear. I would not 
willingly suppose, that they are afraid to hazard 
the characters they now maintain, of being men 
of learning and abilities ; for while we only takg 
these things for granted, their reputations are 
but weakly established. To rescue our native 
language from the hands of ignorants and mer- 
cenaries, is a task worthy those, who are ac- 
counted ornaments of our seats of learning ; 
and it is sui'ely more than common ingratitude 
in those, who eat the bread of literature, to re- 
fuse their utmost endeavoui's to support it. 



No. 43.] Thursday, Nov. 21, 1754. 



Spectaret popuhan ludis attentiils ipsis, 

Ut sibi prcchentum mino spectacula plura. HoR. 

Pit, box, and gallery I with joy survey. 

And more observe the audience than the play. 

A FEW years ago an ingenious player gave notice 
in the bills for his benefit night, that the Pi'o- 
logue should be spoken by the Pit, which he con- 
trived to have represented on the stage. Another 
time he dre^v in the whole house to act as Cho- 
rus to a new farce ; and I remember, that in the 
last rebellion the loyal acclamations of " God 
save the King" might have been heard from 
Drui'y-Lane to Charing- Cross. Upon these 
and many other occasions the audience has been 
known to enter into the immediate business of 
the Drama ; and to say the truth, I never go in- 
to the theatre, without looking on the spectators 
as playing a part almost as much as the actors 
themselves. All the company from the sttige- 
hox to the upper galleiy know thoir cues very 
well, and perform their parts with great spirit. 
I begun the season with a few animadversions 
on the chief faults to which our performers are 



liable. To-day I shall beg leave to say a word 
or two to the audience, as my reflections on the 
theatre woidd otherwise be incomplete. Oh tliis 
occasion I expect the thanks of the managers ; 
and would recommend it to them to put my 
thirty-foiu'th number into a frame and glass, 
and hang it up in the Green- Room for the bene- 
fit of the players ; and to dispose three or four 
thousand of the present number into the several 
parts of the house, as Bayes dispersed papei's to 
insinuate the plot of his piece into the boxes. 

The first part of the audience', that demands 
GUI' attention, is so nearly allied to the actors, 
that they always appear on the same level with 
them : but while the performer endeavours to 
carry on the business of the play, these gentle- 
men behind the scenes serve only to hinder and 
distui'b it. There is no pait of the house, from 
which a play can be seen to so little advantage as 
from the stage ; yet this situation is veiy con- 
venient on many other considerations, of more 
consequence to a fine gentleman. It looks par- 
ticular : it is the best place to show a handsome 
person or an elegant suit of clothes : a bow from 
the stage to a beauty in the box is most likely to 
attract oui' notice ; and a pretty fellow may per- 
haps with tolerable management get the credit 
of an intrigue with some of the actresses. But 
notwithstanding all these advantages accruing 
to our fine gentlemen, I could heai'tily wish they 
would leave a clear stage to the performers ; or 
at least that none should be admitted behind the 
scenes, but such as ^vould submit to be of some 
use there. As these gentleman are ready dressed, 
they might help to swell the retinue of a mo- 
narch, join the engagement in a ti-agedy-battle, 
or do any other little office that might occur in 
the play, which requu'es but little sense and no 
memory. But if they have not any genius for 
acting, and are still desirous of retaining their 
posts by the side-scenes, they should be obliged 
to take a musket, bayonet, pouch, and the rest 
of the accoutrements, and stand on guaixl quietly 
and decently with the soldiers. 

The boxes arc often filled with persons, who 
do not come to the theatre out of any regard to 
Shakspeare or Garrick. but like the fine lady in 
Lethe, "because every body is there." As these 
people camiot be expet^ted to mind the play them- 
selves, we can only desire them not to call off the 
attention of others : nor interrupt the dialogue 
on the stage by a louder conversation of their 
own. The silent courtship of the eyes, ogles, 
nods, glances, and courtesies fk'om one box to 
another, may be allowed them the same as at 
chui*ch ; but nothing more, except at corona- 
tions, funeral processions, ami pantomimes. 
Here I cannot help recommending it to the gen- 
tlemen, who draw the pen from under their 
right ears about seven o'clock, clap on a bag-wig 
and sword, and drop into the boxes at tlie end of 



No. 43.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



75 



the third act, to take theu- half-crown's worth 
with as much decency as possible : as weU as the 
bloods, who reel from the taverns about Covent- 
Garden near that time, and tumble dinink into 
the boxes. Before I quit this part of the house, 
I must take notice of that division of the upper 
boxes, properly distinguished by the name of the 
flesh market. There is frequently as much art 
used to make the flesh exhibited here look whole- 
some, and (as Tim says in the farce) " all over 
red and white, like the inside of a shoulder of 
mutton," as there is by the butchers to make 
their veal look white; and it is as often rank 
carrion and fly-blown. If these ladies would 
appear in any other quarter of the house, I 
would only beg of them, and those who come to 
market, to drive their bargains with as little 
noise as possible : but I have lately observed, 
with some concern, that these women begin to 
appear in the lower boxes, to the destruction of 
all order, and great confusion of all modest la- 
dies. It is to be hoped, that some of their friends 
will advise them not to pretend to appear there 
any more than at court ; for it is as absurd to 
endeavour the removal of their market into the 
front and side boxes, as it would be in the 
butchers of St. James's Market to attempt fix- 
ing the shambles in St. James's Square. 

I must now desire the reader to descend with 
me, among laced hats and capuchins, into the 
pit. The pit is the grand court of criticism : 
and in the centre of it is collected that awful 
body, distinguished by the title of The Town. 
Hence are issued the irrevocable decrees ; and 
here final sentence is pronounced on plays and 
players. This court has often been very severe 
in its decisions, and has been known to declare 
many old plays barbarously murdered, and most 
of oiu- modern ones yi'/o de se : but it must not 
be dissembled, that many a cause of great con- 
sequence has been denied a fair hearing. Parties 
and private cabals have often been formed to 
thwart the progress of merit, or to espouse ig- 
norance and dullness; for it is not wonderful, 
that the parliament of criticism, like all others, 
should be liable to coiTuption. In this assem- 
bly Mr. Town was first nominated Critic and 
Censor General ; but, considering the notorious 
biibery now prevailing, I think proper to de- 
clare, (in imitation of Tom in the Conscious 
Lovers) that I never took a single order for my 
vote in all my life. 

Those, who pay their two shillings at the door 
of the middle gallery, seem to frequent the 
theatre purely for the sake of seeing the play : 
though these peaceful regions are sometimes dis- 
turbed by the incursions of rattling ladies of 
pleasure ; sometimes contain persons of fashion 
in disguise, and sometimes critics in ambush. 
The greatest fault I have to object to those who 
fill this quarter of the theatre, is their frequent 
and injudicious interruption of the business of 



the play, by their applause. I have seen a bad 
actor clapped two minutes together for ranting 
or perhaps shrugging his shoulders, and making 
wry faces ; and I have seen the natural course 
of the passions checked in a good one, by these 
ill-judged testimonies of their approbation. It 
is recorded of Betterton to his honour, that he 
thought a deep silence through the whole house, 
and a strict attention to his playing, the strong- 
est and surest signs of his being well received. 

The inhabitants of the upper gallery demand 
our notice as well as the rest of the theatre. 
The trunk-maker of immortal memory was the 
most celebrated hero of these regions ; but, 
since he is departed, and no able-bodied critic 
appointed in his room, I cannot help giving the 
same caution to the upper gallery, as to the gentry 
a pair of stairs lower. Some of the under come- 
dians will, perhaps, be displeased at this order, 
who are proud of these applauses, and rejoice to 
hear the lusty bangs from the oaken towels of 
their friends against the wainscot of the upper 
gallery : but I think they should not be allowed 
to shatter the pannels without amending our 
taste ; since their thwacks, however vehement, 
are seldom laid on with sufficient judgment to 
ratify our applause. It were better, therefore, 
if all the present twelve-penny critics of this 
town, who pi-eside over our diversions in the 
upper gallery, would content themselves with 
the inferior duties of their office, viz. to take 
care that the play begins at the proper time, 
that the music between the acts is of a due 
length, and that the candles are snuffled in tune. 

After these brief admonitions concerning our 
behaviour at the play, Avhich are intended as a 
kind of Vade Mecum for the frequenters of the 
theatre, I cannot conclude my paper more 
properly than with an extract from the Tale of 
a Tub, showing the judicious distribution of 
our play-houses into boxes, pits, and galleries. 

" I confess, that there is something very re- 
fined in the contrivance and structure of our 
modern theatres. For, first, the pit is sank be- 
low the stage, that whatever weighty matter 
shall be delivered thence, (whether it be lead or 
gold) may fall plump into the jaws of certain 
critics, (as I think they are called) which stand 
ready open to devour them. Then, the boxes 
are built round, and raised to a level with the 
scene, in defei'ence to the ladies ; because that 
large portion of wit, laid out in raising prurien- 
ces and protuberances, is observed to run much 
upon a line, and ever in a circle. The whining 
passions, and little starved conceits, are gently 
wafted up, by their own extreme levity, to the 
middle region, and there fix and are frozen by 
the frigid understandings of the inhabitants. 
Bombastery and buffoonery, by nature lofty and 
light, soar highest of all, and would be lost in 
the roof, if the prudent architect had not witli 
much foresight contrived for them a fburtii 



76 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 44. 



place, called the twelve-penny gallery, and 
there planted a suitable colony, who greedily in- 
tercept them in their passage." O. 



>«'«'«/v%/«'« 



No. 44.] Thursday, Nov. 24, I754-. 



•Bes nomims hujus honorem. 



HOR. 



Let every Wapping Wife to Lady swell, 
And each St. Giles's Miss be Ma'emoiselle. 

I LATELY took a sui*vey of the female world, as 
Censor- General ; and upon a strict review, was 
very much surprised to find, that there is scarce 
one woman to be met with, except among the 
low^cst of the vulgar. The sex consists entirely 
of ladies. Every Joan is listed into a lady ; and 
the maid and the mistress are equally dignified 
•with this polite title. The stage-coaches are 

constantly filled with ladies. At Bai-tholo- 

mew fair there is always a hop for the ladies 

And if the ladies in the drawing-room are em- 
ployed at whist, their last night's cards are made 
use of in a rubber by the ladies in the steward's 
room ; while the other ladies of the family are 
staking their halfpeuce at put or all-fours in the 
kitchen. In a word, whenever there is oc- 
casion to speak of the female world, honourable 
mention is always made of them by the respect- 
ful appellation of the Ladies : as the young and 
the old, the black and the brown, the homely 
and the handsome, are all complaisantly included 
under the general title of the Fair. 

Since, therefore, the ladies of Great Britain 
make up so numerous a body, I should be loath 
to disoblige so considerable a sisterhood, and shall 
devote this paper entii-ely to their service. I 
propose at present to marshal them into their 
respective ranks ; and upon a review, I find that 
they may be justly distributed under these five 
divisions ; viz. married ladies, maiden or young 
ladies, ladies of quality, fine ladies, and lastly 
(without aflfront to the good company) ladies of 
pleasure. 

I shall begin with the married ladies, as this 
order will be found to be far the most numerous, 
and includes all the married Avomen in town or 
country above the degree of a chai'- woman, or 
the trundler of a wheelbarrow. The plain old 
English word wife has lohg been discarded in 
cur conversation, as being only fit fo\' the broad 
mouths of the vulgar. A well-bred ear is 
startled at the very sound of wife, as at a coarse 
and indelicate expression ; and I appeal to any 
fashionable couple, whether they would not be 
as much ashamed to be mentioned together as 
man and wife, as they would be to appeal' to- 
gether at court in a fardingale and trunk- 
breeches. From Hyde- Park- Corner to Tcmple- 
Bai- this monster of a wife has not been heard 



of since the antiquated times of dame and your 
worship ; and in the city every good housewife 
is at least a lady of the other end of the town. 
In the country you might as well dispute the 
pretensions of every fox-liunter to the title of 
esquire, as of his helpmate to that of lady j and 
in every corporation town, whoever matches 
with a burgess, becomes a lady by right of char- 
ter. My cousin Village (from whom I have all 
my rural intelligence) informs me, that upon 
the strictest inquiry, there is but one wife in the 
town where he now lives, and that is the par- 
son's wife, who is never mentioned by the 
countiy ladies but as a dowdy, and an old- 
fasliioned creatui-e. Such is the gi*eat privilege 
of matrimony, that every female is ennobled by 
changing her surname : for as every unmarried 
woman is a miss, every mai-ried one by the same 
coui'tesy is a lady. 

The next order of dignified females is com- 
posed of maiden or young ladies ; which terms 
are synonymous, and are indifferently applied to 
females of the age of fourteen or threescore. 
We must not, therefore, be surprised to hear of 
maiden ladies, who are known to have had 
several children, or to meet with young ladies, 
that look like old dowagers. At the house of an 
acquaintance where I lately visited, I was told 
that we were to expect jMrs. Jackson and the 
two INIiss Wrinkles. But what was my sur- 
prise, when I saw on their arrival a blooming 
female of tAventy-five accosted under the first 
denomination, and the two nymphs, as I expect- 
ed, come tottering into the room, the youngest 
of them, to all appearance, on the verge of three- 
score ! I could not help w^ishing, on this occa- 
sion, that some middle term was invented be- 
tween Miss and Mrs. to be adopted, at a certain 
age, by all females not inclined to matrimony. 
For surely nothing can be more ridiculous, than 
to hear a gi'ey-haired lady, past her gi*and cli- 
macteric, mentioned in tenns that convey the 
idea of youth and beauty, or perhaps of a bib 
and hanging-sleeA'CS. This indiscriminate appel- 
lation imavoidably creates much confusion : I 
knoAv an eminent tradesman who lost a very 

good customer for innocently writing Mrs. 

at the head of her biU : and I was lately at a 
ball, where, trusting to a friend for a partner, I 
was obliged to do penance with an old withered 
beldam, who hobbled through several coimtry 
dances with me, though she wiis ancient enough 
to have been my grandmother. Excluding these 
young ladies of fifty and sixty, this order of 
females is very numerous ; for there is scarce a 
girl in town or country, superior to a milk-maid 
or cinder-wenoh, but is comprehended in it. 
The daughters are indisputably yomig ladies, 
though their papas may be tradesmen or mecha- 
nics. For the present race of shopkeepers, &c. 
have wisely provided, that their gentility shall 
be preserved in the female part of the family. 



No. 15.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



77 



Thus., although the son is called plain Jack, and 
perhaps bound apprentice to his father, the 
daughter is taught to hold up her head, make 
tea in the little pai'loiu* behind the shop, and in- 
herits the title of lady from her mamma. To 
make these claims to dignity more sm-e, those 
excellent seminaries of genteel education, called 
boarding-schools, have been conti-ived; where, 
instead of teasing a sampler, or conning a chap- 
ter of the Bible, the young ladies are insti'ucted 
to hold up their heads, make a courtesy, and to 
behave themselves in every respect like pretty 
little ladies. Hence it happens, that we may 
often observe several of these . polite damsels in 
the skirts of White- Chapel, and in every petty 
country town ; nay, it is common to meet with 
young ladies born and bred, who have submitted 
to keep a chandler's shop, or had humility 
enough even to go to service. 

I proceed next to take into consideration what 
is generally understood by ladies of quality. 
These, in other words, may be more properly 
called ladies of fashion: for, in the modish ac- 
ceptation of the phrase, not so much regard is 
had to their bii'th or station, or even to their 
coronet, as to then* way of life. The dutchess, 
who has not taste enough to act up to the cha- 
racter of a person of quality, is no more respect- 
ed in the polite Tvorld than a city knight's lady ; 
nor does she derive any greater honour from her 
title, than the hump-backed "won^an receives from 
the vulgar. But ^vhat is more immediately ex- 
pected from a lady of quality, will be seenimder 
the next article ; for, to then* praise be it spoken, 
most of oxrr modern ladies of quality affect to be 
fine ladies. 

To describe the life of a fine lady would be 
only to set dow^n a perpetual roiuid of visiting, 
gaming, dressing, and intriguing. She has been 
bred up in the notion of making a figm*e, and of 
recommending herself as a woman of spirit ; for 
which end she is always foremost in the fashion, 
and never fails gracing with her appearance 
every public assembly, and every party of plea- 
sure. Though single, she may coquet with every 
single gentleman ; or if maiTied, she may admit 
of gallantries without reproach, and even receive 
visits from the men in her bed-chamber. To 
complete the character, and to make her a very 
fine lady, she should be celebrated for her wit 
and beauty, and be parted from her husband : 
for as matrimony itself is not meant as a re- 
straint upon pleasure, a sepai-ate maintenance is 
understood as a license to throw off even the 
appearance of virtue. 

From the fine ladies it is a very natural tran- 
sition to the ladies of pleasure ; and, indeed from 
what has already been said concerning fine la- 
dies, one might imagine that, as they make plea- 
sure their sole pursuit, they might properly be 
entitled ladies of pleasiu'e. But this gay appel- 
lation is reserved for the higher rank of prosti- 



tutes, whose principal difference from the fine 
ladies consists in their openly professing a trade, 
which the others caiTy on by smuggling. A 
lady of fashion, who refuses no favoiu's but the 
last, or even grants that without being paid for 
it, is not to be accounted a lady of pleasure, but 
ranks in an order formerly celebrated under the 
title of demi-reps. It is whimsical enough to 
see the different complexions assumed by the 
same vice, according to the difference of stations. 
The married lady of quality may intrigue with 
as many as she pleases, and still remain right 
honourable : the draggle-tailed street-walker is 
a common woman, and liable to be sent to Bride- 
well; but the whore of high life is a lady of 
pleasiu'e, and rolls in a gilt chariot. T. 



No. 45.] Thursday, Dec. 5, 1754-. 



Quicquid agunt homines, votum, titnor, ira, volupfus 
Gaudia, disairsus, nostri farrago libeUi. Juv. 

Vv'hate'er the busy bustling world employs, 
Our wants and wishes, pleasures, cares, and joys. 
These the historians of our tinies display. 
And call it news, the hodge-podge of a day. 

When I first resolved on appearing in my pre- 
sent character, I had some thoughts of making 
my public entry in the front of one or other of 
our newspapers ; as I considered that the do- 
mestic occiuTences, which compose a part of 
their equipage, would make no bad figure in my 
own retinue. Some reflections on the modish 
methods of gaming would receive an additional 
confinnation from a paragraph in the News, that 
"last Tuesday a game at Whist was played at 
White's for £1000 a corner," or that " the match 
between his Grace the Duke of * * * * and 
Lord * * * * was decided at Newmarket : " and 
a dissertation on the luxiu-y of the present age 
would be A'ery aptly illustrated by an exact ac- 
coimt of the weight of the turtle, dressed a few 
days before for the gentlemen of the above-men- 
tioned Chocolate-house. 

Indeed, I have always looked upon the works 
of Mr. Jenoiu" in the Daily Advertiser as a 
kind of supplement to the intelligence of ]Mr. 
Town ; containing a more minute account of the 
impoi-tant transactions of that class of mankind, 
which has been figm-atively styled The World. 
From these daily registers, we may not only 
leai"n when any body is married or hanged, but 
you have immediate notice whenever his Grace 
goes to Newmarket, or her Ladyship sets out for 
Bath : and but last week, at the same time that 
the gentleiTjen of the law were told, that the 
Lord Chancellor could not sit in the Court of 
Chancery, people of fashion had the melancholy 
news, that Signor Ricciarelli was not able to 
sing. 



78 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 45. 



Nor is that part of Mr. Jenoui*'s lucubra- 
tions, which is allotted to advertisements less 
amusing and entertaining : and many of these ar- 
ticles might very properly come under my cog- 
nizance. It is here debated, whether the prize 
of eloquence should be given to Orator Macklin 
or Orator Henley ; and whether IMr. Stephen 
Pitts is not the best qualified to furnish gen- 
tlemen and ladies' libraries with tea-chests in 
Octavo, and close-stools in Folio. And besides 
the public notices to persons of taste, of very 
rare old Japan, and most curious and inimitable 
Epargnes for desserts, as also the most rich and 
elegant fancied silks to be sold by auction ; 
many other advices no less interesting to the 
Town, are here given. We are daily put in 
mind, that Mrs. Philips at the Green Canister 
still hopes for the favours of her former good 
customers as usual : tbat next door to Haddock's 
is sold an antidote against the poison imbibed at 
that bagnio : that Dr. Rock infallibly cures a 
certain epidemical distemper by virtue of the 
King's patent : that a learned physician and sur- 
geon will privately accommodate any gentleman 
(as the doctor modestly expresses it in his own 
Latin) P7'0 Morbus Venerea curandus: and that 
y. Z. a regular-bred surgeon and man-midwife, 
together with fifty others, will accommodate 
gentlewomen that are under the necessity of ly- 
ing-in privately. 

But not only the public transactions of auc- 
tioneers, brokers, and horse-dealers, but the most 
private concerns of pleasure and gallantry may 
be also carried on by means of this paper. As- 
signations are here made, and the most secret 
intrigues formed, at the expense of two shillings. 
If a genteel young lady, who can do all l^nds of 
work, wants a place, she will be sure to hear of 
a master by advertising: any gentleman and 
lady of unexceptionable character may meet with 
lodgings to be let, and no questions asked : how 
often has Romeo declared in print his un- 
speakable passion for the chax'ming Peachy ! 
How many gentlemen have made open profes- 
sions of the strictest honour and secrecy ! And 
how many ladies, drest in such a manner, and 
seen at such a place, have been desired to leave 
a line for A. B. Before the late Marriage Act 
it was very usual for young gentlemen and la- 
dies (possessed of every qualification requisite to 
make the marriage state happy) to offer them- 
selves as a good bargain to each other ; and men 
took the same measures of advertising to get an 
agreeable companion for life, as they do for an 
agreeable companion for a post-chaise. As this 
traffic in matrimony is now prohibited, it has 
given occasion to the opening a new branch of 
trade; and since husbands and wivas are hardly 
to be got for love or money, several good-natured 
females have set themselves up for sale to the 
best bidder. The Daily Advertiser is therefore 
become the universal register for new faces ; and 



every day's advertisements have been lately 
crowded with offers of young ladies, who would 
be glad of the company of any elderly gentle- 
man, to pass his leisuie hours with them, and 
play at cards. 

I look upon the common intelligence in our 
public papers, with the long train of advertise- 
ments annexed to it, as the best account of the 
present domestic state of England, that can pos- 
sibly be compiled: nor do I know any thing, 
which would give posterity so clear an idea of 
the taste and morals of the present age, as a 
bundle of our daily papers. They would here 
see what books are most read, what are our chief 
amusements and diversions ; and when they 
should observe the daily inquiries after eloped 
wives and apprentices, and the frequent accounts 
of trials in Westminster-Hall for perjury, adul- 
tery, &c. they might form a tolerable notion 
even of our private life. Among many other 
reasons for lamenting that the firt of printing 
was not more early discovered, I cannot but re- 
gret that we have perhaps lost many accounts of 
this nature, which might otherwise have been 
handed down to us. With what pleasure should 
w^e have perused an Athenian Advertiser, or a 
Roman Gazetteer ! A curious critic or anti- 
quary would place them on the same shelf with 
the Classics, and would be highly pleased at dis- 
covei'ing what days Tully went to his Tuscu-- 
lum, or Pliny to his magnificent villa ; who was 
the capital singer at the Grecian opera, and in 
what characters Eoscius appeared with most 
success. These pieces of intelligence would un- 
doubtedly give gi'eat satisfaction ; and I am my- 
self acquainted with a very learned gentleman, 
who has assured me, that he has been as much 
delighted at discovering that the Sosii were 
Horace's booksellers, that the Hecyra of Te- 
rence was damned, and other little pai-ticulars of 
that nature, as with an account of the destruc- 
tion of Carthage, or the death of Csesar. We 
should also be glad to collect from their adver- 
tisements what things were most in request at 
Athens and Rome. Even our i>apers (which 
perhaps are c^.lled Daily from their lasting but 
a day) are, I fear, of too fugitive a nature to fall 
under the inspection of posterity. To remedy, 
in some measure, this inconvenience, I shall now 
conclude my paper with a i'nw advertisements, 
which, if they have not all actually been insert- 
ed in our papers, are at least of the same natiu'o 
with those that daily have a place there. 

ADVERTISEMENTS. 

To be spokti with every day at his house in llio 
Old-Bailey, 

BRYAN RAPAWAT, 

Who swears oaths of all kinds and prices, and 
Avill procure positive evidence at a day's warn- 
ing in all sorts of causes. He will contract with 
any attorney or quack-doctor, to swear by the 



No. 46.] 



quartor ; and will supply affidavits, &c. on the 
most reasonable terms. 

*^* He will attend, during the business of 
elections and double returns, in the lobby of the 
House of Commons, and will jily next term at 
Westminster- Hall. 

WANTED, 

A genteel black or negi'o G irl, very handsome .; 
with a soft skin, good teeth, sweet breath, at 
least five feet tlu-ee inches high, and not above 
eighteen. Whoever has such a girl to disi>ose of, 
may hear of a gentleman who will give fifty 
guineas for her, by applying at the bar of the 
Shakspeare's Head Tavern, Covent- Garden. 

Note, At the same place any genteel white 
Girl may hear of something to her advantage. 

A person, that lives near Guildhall, is a very 
gentle rider, rides about ten stone, chiefly for 
health, and never on a Sunday but on an extra- 
ordinary occasion, would be glad of a partner 
much under the same cii'cumstances, in a very 
genteel mare, and very good in her kind. 

Several sums, from £10 to £10,000. 

Wanted immediately, by a person in a large 
and profitable business — Wanted directly, by a 
person whose character will bear the strictest 
inquiry — Wanted for a week only, or as long as 
the lender chooses — upon undeniable security— 
The borrower will give his bond and judgment, 
make over his stock in trade, insure his life, &c. 
— A handsome gratuity will be given — Interest 
paid punctually — Strictest honour and secrecy 
may be depended on. None but principals will 
be treated with. 

Direct for A. B. L. M. S. T. X. Y. &c. &c. 
&c. 

This day are published. 

The Adventui*es of Dick Hazard. 

The History of Mr. Joshua Trueman. 

The History of WiU Ramble. 

The History of James Ramble, Esq. 

The Travels of Drake Morris. 

The History of Jasper Banks. 

Memoirs of the Shakspeare's Head. 

The History of Frajik Hammond. 

The IMarriage-Act, a Novel. 

And speedily will be published. 

The History of Sir Humphry Herald and Sir 
Edward Haunch. — Memou's of Lady Vain- 
love. — The Card. 

Adventiu'es of Tom Doughty, Jack Careless, 
Frank Easy, Dick Damnable, Molly Peirson, 
&c. &c. 

Being a complete collection of Novels for the 
amusement of the pref5ent winter. T. 



THECONNOISSEUK. 79 

No. 46.] Thursday, Dec. 12, 1754. 



Fades non omnibus ima. 

Nee diuersa tamen Ovid. 



Where borrow'd tints bestow a lifeless grace, 
None wear the same, yet none a diflFerent face. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Su 



It is whimsical to obserA^e the mistakes that we 
country gentlemen are led into at our first com- 
ing to town. We are induced to think, and in- 
deed truly, that your fine ladies are composed of 
different materials from our rural ones ; since, 
though they sleep all day and rake all night, they 
still remain as fresh and ruddy as a parson's 
daughter or a farmer's wife. At other times we 
are apt to wonder, that such delicate creatures as 
they appear, should yet be so much proof 
against cold, as to look as rosy in January as 
in June, and even in the shai'pest weather to be 
very unwilling to approach the fire. I was at a 
loss to account for this unalterable hue of their 
complexions : but I soon found, that beauty was 
not more peculiar to the air of St. James's than 
of York ; and that this perpetual bloom was not 
native, but imported from abroad. Not content 
with that red and white which nature gave, 
your belles ai'e reduced (as they pretend) to the 
necessity of supplying the flush of health with 
the rouge of vermillion, and giving us Spanish 
wool for English beauty. 

The very reason alleged for this fashionable 
practice is such, as (if they seriously considered 
it) the ladies woidd be ashamed to mention. 
" The late hours they are obliged to keep, render 
them such perfect frights, that they would be as 
loath to appear abroad without paint as without 
clothes." This, it must be acknowledged, is too 
true : but would they suffer their fathers or their 
husbands to wheel them down for one month to 
the old mansion-house, they would soon be sen- 
sible of the change, and soon perceive how much 
the early walk exceeds the late assembly. The 
vigils of the card-table have spoiled many a good 
face ; and I have known a beauty stick to the 
midnight rubbers, till she has gi'own as homely 
as the queen of spades. There is nothing more 
certain in aU Hoyle's cases, than that whist and 
late hours will ruin the finest set of features : 
but if the ladies would give up their routs for 
the healthy amusements of the countiy, I will 
venture to say their carmine would be then as 
useless as their artificial nosegays. 

A moralist might talk to them of the hei- 
nousness of the practice ; since all deceit is cri- 
minal, and painting is no better than looking a lie. 
And should they ui'ge that nobody is deceived by 
it, he might add, that the plea for admitting it is 
then at an end : since few are yet arrived at that 



80 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 45. 



height of French politeness, as to dress their 
cheeks in public, and to profess wearing vermi- 
lion as openly as powder. But I shall content 
myself with using an argument more likely to 
prevail ; and such, I trust, will be the assurance 
that this practice is highly disagreeable to the 
men. What must be the mortification, and 
what the disgust of the lover, who goes to bed to 
a bride as blooming as an angel, and finds her 
in the morning as wan and as yellow as a corpse ? 
For marriage soon takes off the mask ; and all 
the resources of art, all the mysteries of the 
toilet, are then at an end. He that is thus 
wedded to a cloud instead of a Juno, may well 
be allowed to complain, but without relief; for 
this is a custom, which once admitted, so tar- 
nishes the skin, that it is next to impossible ever 
to retrieve it. Let me, therefore, caution these 
young beginners, who are not yet discoloured 
past redemption, to leave it off in time, and en- 
deavour to procure and preserve by early hours 
that unaffected bloom, which art cannot give, 
and which only age or sickness can take away. 

Our beauties were formerly above making use 
of so poor an artifice : they trusted to the lively 
colouring of nature, which was heightened by 
temperance and exercise ; but our modern belles 
are obliged to retouch their cheeks every day, to 
keep them in repair. We were then as superior 
to the French in the assembly, as in the field ; 
but since a trip to France has been thought a 
requisite in the education of our ladies as well 
as gentlemen, our polite females have thought 
fit to dress their faces, as well as their heads, a 
la mode de Paris. I am told, that when au 
English lady is at Paris, she is so surrounded 
with false faces, that she is herself obliged (if 
she would not appear singular) to put on the 
mask. But who would exchange the brilliancy 
of the diamond for the faint lustre of French 
paste ? And, for my part, I would as soon ex- 
pect that an English beauty at Morocco would 
japan her face with lamp black, in complaisance 
to the sable beauties of that country. Let the 
French ladies whitewash and plaster their 
fronts, and lay on their colours with a trowel ; 
but these daubings of art are no more to be 
compared to the genuine glow of a British 
cheek, than the coarse strokes of the painter's 
brush can resemble the native veins of the 
marble. This contrast is placed in a proper 
light in Ml*. Addison's fine epigram on Lady. 
Manchester, which will serve to convince us of 
the force of undissembled beauty : 

When haughty Gallia's dames, that spread 
O'er their pale cheeks a lifeless red, 
Beheld this beauteous stranger there, 
In native charms divinely fair. 
Confusion in their looks they show'd, 
And with unborrow'd blushes glow'd. 

1 think, Mr. Town, you might easily prevail 



on your fair readers to leave off this unnatural 
practice if you could once thoroughly convince 
them, that it impairs their beauty instead of im- 
proving it. A lady's face, like the coats in the 
Tale of a Tub, if left to itself, will wear well ; 
but if you offer to load it with foreign orna- 
ments, you destroy the original ground. 

Among other matter of wonder on my first 
coming to town, I was much surprised at the 
general appearance of youth among the ladies. 
At present there is no distinction in their com- 
plexions between a beauty in her teens and a 
lady in her grand climacteric : yet, at the same 
time, I could not but take notice of the wonder- 
ful A'ariety in the face of the same lady. I have 
known an olive beauty on Monday grow very 
ruddy and blooming on Tuesday ; turn pale on 
W^ednesday ; come round to the olive hue again 
on Thursday ; and, in a word, change her com- 
plexion as often as her gown. I was amazed to 
find no old aunts in this town, except a few un- 
fashionable people, whom nobody knows; the 
rest still continuing in the zenith of their youth 
and health, and falling off, like timely fruit, 
without any previous decay. All this was a 
mystery that I could not unriddle, till on being 
introduced to some ladies, I unluckily improved 
the hue of my lips at the expense of a fair one, 
who unthinkingly had turned her cheek ; and 
found that my kisses were given (as is observed 
in the epigram), like those of Pyramus, through 
the wall. I then discovered, that this surpris- 
ing youth and beauty was all counterfeit ; and 
that (as Hamlet says) " God had given them 
one face, and they had themselves another." 

I have mentioned the accident of my carrying 
off half a lady's face by a salute, that your 
courtly dames may learn to put on their faces a 
little tighter; but as for my own daughters, 
while such fashions prevail, they shall still re- 
main in Yorkshire. There I think they are 
pretty safe ; for this unnatural fashion will 
hardly make its way into the counti-y, as this 
vamped complexion would not stand against the 
rays of the sun, and would inevitably melt away 
in a country dance. The ladies have, indeed, 
been always the greatest enemies to their own 
beauty, and seem to have a design against their 
own faces. At one time the whole countenance 
was eclipsed in a black velvet mask ; at another 
it was blotted with patches ; and at present it is 
crusted over with plaster of Paris. In those 
battered belles, who still aim at conquest, this 
practice is in some sort excusable ; but it is 
surely as ridiculous in a young lady to give up 
beauty for paint, as it would be to draw a good 
set of teeth merely to fill their places with a row 
of ivory. 

Indeed, so common is this fashion among the 
j'oung as well as the old, that when I am in a 
group of beauties, I consider them as so many 
pretty pictures ; looking about me with as little 



No. 47.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



81 



emotion as I do at Hudson's ; and if any thing 
fills me with admiration, it is the judicious ar- 
rangement of the tints and the delicate touches 
of the painter. Art very often seems almost to 
vie with nature : hut my attention is too fre- 
quently diverted by considering the texture and 
hue of the skin beneath ; and the picture fails to 
charm, while my thoughts are engi'ossed by the 
wood and canvas. 

I am. Sir, 
Your humble Servant, 

RUSTICUS. 



No. 47.] Thursday, Dec. 19, 1754. 



Hk mecum licet, hie, Jiivence, quicqiiid 

In buccam tibi veiterit, loquaris. Mart. 

Here, witlings, here with Macklin talk your fill. 
On plays, or politics, or what you will. 

It has hitherto been Imagined, that though we 
have equalled, if not surpassed, the ancients in 
other liberal arts, we have not yet been able to 
arrive at that height of eloquence, which was 
possessed in so amazing a manner by the Gre- 
cian and Roman orators. "Whether this has 
been owing to any peculiar organization of our 
tongues, or whether it has proceeded from our 
national love of taciturnity, I shall not take 
upon me to determine : but I will now venture 
to affirm, that the present times might furnish 
us with a more surpi-ising number of fine speak- 
ers, than have been set down by TuUy in his 
treatise De Claris Oratoribus. Foreigners can 
no longer object tons, that the northern coldness 
of our climate has (as it were) pursed up our 
lips, and that we are afraid to open our mouths : 
the charm is at length dissolved ; and our peo- 
ple, who before affected the gravity and silence 
of the Spaniards, have adopted and naturalized 
the volubility of speech, as well as the gay man- 
ners, of the French. 

This change has been brought about by the 
public-spirited attempts of those elevated geni- 
uses, who have instituted certain schools for the 
cultivation of eloquence in all its branches. 
Hence it is, that instead of languid discourses 
from the pulpit, several tabernacles and meet- 
ing-houses have been set up, where lay-preach- 
ers may display all the powers of oratory in sighs 
and gi-oans, and emulate a Whitfield or a Wes- 
ley in all the figures of rhetoric. And not only 
the enthusiast has his conventicles, but even the 
free-thinker boasts his societies, where he may 
hold forth against religion in tropes, metaphors, 
and similes. The declamations Aveekly thun- 
dered out at Clare- Market, and the subtle ar- 
gumentations at the Robin Hood, I have for- 
jnerly celebrated : it now remains to pay my 



respects to the Martin Luther of the age, (as he 
frequently calls himself,) the great orator Maek- 
lin : who, by declaiming himself, and opening a 
school for the disputations of others, has joined 
both the above plans together, and formed the 
British Inquisition. Here, whatever concerns 
the \7orld of taste and litei'ature, is debated : 
our rakes and bloods, who had been used to fre- 
quent Covent- Garden merely for the sake of 
whoring and drinking, now resort thither for 
re^ison and argument ; and the piazza begins to 
vie with the ancient portico, where Socrates dis- 
puted. 

But what pleases me most in Mr. Macklin's 
institution is, that he has allowed the tongues 
of my fair countrywomen their fuU play. Their 
natural talents for oratory are so excellent and 
numerous, that it seems more owing to the 
envy than prudence of the other sex, that they 
should be denied the opportunity of exerting 
them. The remarkable tendency in our politest 
ladies, " to talk, though they have nothing to 
say," and the torrent of eloquence, that pours 
(on the most trivial occasions) from the lips of 
those females, called scolds, give abundant proofs 
of that command of words, and flov/ of elo- 
quence, which so few men have been able to at- 
tain. Again, if action is the life and soul of an 
oration, how many advantages have the ladies in 
this particular ? The waving of a snowy ami, 
artfully shaded with the enchanting slope of a 
double ruffle, would have twenty times the force 
of the stiff see-saw of a male orator : and when 
they come to the most animated parts of the ora- 
tion, which demand uncommon warmth and 
agitation, we should be vanquished by the heav- 
ing breast, and all those other channs, which 
the modern dress is so weU calculated to display. 

Since the ladies are thus undeniably endued 
with these and many other accomplishments for 
oratory, that no place should hitherto have been 
opened for their exerting them is almost unac- 
countable. The lower order of females have, 
indeed, long ago instituted an academy of this 
kind at the other end of the town, where oysters 
and eloquence are in equal perfection ; but the 
politer part of the female world have hitherto had 
no further opportunity of exercising their abili- 
ties, than the common occasions which a new cap 
or petenlair, the tea or the card-table, have affoi'd- 
ed them. I am therefore heartily glad, that a 
plan is at length put in execution, which will en- 
courage their propensity to talking, and enlarge 
their topics of conversation : but I would more 
particularly recommend it to all ladies of a cla- 
morous disposition, to attend at Macklin's : that 
the impetuous stream of eloquence, which, for 
want of another vent, has long been poured on 
their servants or husbands, may now be carried 
off by another more agreeable channel. 

I could not have thought it possible, that this 
undei-taking would have subsisted two nights, 
M 



82 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 48. 



without setting all the female tongues from St. 
James's to Temple-bar in motion. Uut the ladies 
have hitherto been dumb ; and female eloquence 
seems as unlikely to display itself in public as 
"ver. Whether their modesty will not permit 
them to open their mouths in the unhallowed 
air of Coven t- Garden, I know not : but I am 
rather inclined to think, that the questions pro- 
posed have not been sufficiently calculated for 
the female part of the assembly. They might 
perhaps be tempted to debate, " whether Fanny 

Murray or Lady were the properest to 

lead the fashion ;" " to what lengths a lady 
might proceed without the loss of her reputa- 
tion ;" — or " whether the beautifying lotion or 
the royal washball were the most excellent cos- 
metics." It might also be expected, in complai- 
sance to the fair sex, that the Inquisitor should 
now and then read a dissertation on natural and 
artificial beauty ; in which he might (with that 
softness and delicacy peculiar to himself) analyze 
a lady's face, and give examples of the ogle, the 
simper, the smile, the languish, the dimple, &c. 
with a word or two on the use and benefit of 
paint. 

But these points I shall leave to Mr. Mack- 
lin's consideration : in the meantime, as it is not 
in my power to oblige the public with a lady's 
speech, I shall fill up the remainder of my paper 
with an oration, which my coi'respondent is 
desirous should appear in print, though he had 
not sufficient confidence to deliver it at the In- 
quisition. 

QUESTION. 

Whether the Stage might not be made more con- 
ducive to virtue and morality ? 

Mr. Inquisitor, 
The ancient drama had, we know, a religious 
as well as political view : and was designed to 
inspire the audience with a reverence to the gods 
and a love of their country. Our own stage, 
upon particular occasions, has been made to 
answer the same ends. Thus we may remember 
during the last rebellion, besides the loyalty of 
the fiddles in the orchestra, we were inspired 
with the detestation of the Pope and Pretender 
by the Nonjuror, the Jesuit Caught, Perkin 
Warbeck, or the Popish Impostor, and such 
other politico-religious dramas. 
I But there is a species of the drama, Avhich has 
i not yet been mentioned by any of the gentlemen 
who have spoke to the question, and which is 
very deficient in point of moral : I mean pan- 
tomimes. Mr. Law has been very severe on 
the impiety of representing heathen gods and 
goddesses before a truly Christian audience : and 
to this we may add, that Haiiequin is but a 
wicked sort of a fellow, and is always running 
after the girls. For my part 1 have often blush- 



ed to see tills impudent rake endeavouring to 
creep up Columbine's petticoats, and at other 
times patting her neck, and laying his legs upon 
her lap. Nobody will say, indeed, that there is 
much virtue and morality in these entertain- 
ments : though it must be confessed to the 
honour of our neighbouring house here, that the 
Necromancer and the Sorcerer, after having 
played many unchristian pranks upon the stage, 
are at last fairly sent to the devil. I would 
therefore recommend it to our pantomime- 
writers, that instead of the Pantheon, or lewd 
comedies, they \vould take their subjects from 
some old garland, moral ballad, or penny histo- 
ry book. Supp«se, for example, they were to 
give us tlie story of Patient Grizzle in dumb 
show : setting forth, as how a noble lord fell in 
love with her, as he was hunting ; — and there 
you might have the scene of the spinning wheel, 
and the song of the early horn ; — and as how, 
after many trials of her patience, which they 
might represent by machinery, this lord at last 
married her ; — and then you may have a grand 
temple and dance. The other house have already 
revived the good old story of Fortunatus's wish- 
ing cap ; and as they are fond of introducing 
little children in their entertainments, suppose 
they were to exhibit a pantomime of the 'i'hree 
Children in the Wood ; — 'twould be vastly 
pretty to see the pasteboard robin-red-breast let 
down by wires upon the stage to cover the poor 
innocent babes Avith paper leaves. But if they 
must have fairies and genii, I would advise them 
to take their stories out of that pretty little 
book, called the Fairy Tales. I am sure, instead 
of ostriches, dogs, horses, lions, monkeys, &c. 
we should be full as well pleased to see the Wolf 
and little Red Riding-Hood ; and we should 
laugh vastly at the adventures of Puss in Boots. 
I need not point out the excellent moral which 
would be inculcated by representations of this 
kind ; and I am confident they would meet with 
the deserved applause of all the old women and 
childreikin both galleries. O. 



No. 48.] Thursday, Dec. 26, 1754. 



-Age, Ubertate Becembri, 



Quando ita vu{jores volu^unty utere.— Hon. 

Come, let us, like our jovial sires of old. 

With gambols and mince-pies our Christmas hold. 

At this season of the year it has always been 
customary for the lower part of the world to ex- 
press their gratitude to their benefactors ; while 
some of a more elevated genius among them 
clothe their thoughts in a kind of holiday dress, 
and once in the year rise into poets. Thus the 
bellman bids goodnight io all his masters and 



No. 4«.J 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



83 



mistresses in couplets ; the news-caiTier hawks 
his own verses; and the very lamp-lighter 
addresses his worthy customers in i-hyme. 
As a. servant to the public, I should be want- 
ing in the due respect to my readers, if I 
also did not take this earliest opportunity of 
paying them the compliments of the season, and 
(in the phrase of their barbers, tailors, shoe- 
makers, and other tradesmen) wish them a 
merry Christmas, and a happy new year. 

Those old-fashioned mortals, who have been 
accustomed to look upon this season with extra- 
ordinary devotion, I leave to con over the ex- 
planation of it in Nelson : it shall at present be 
my business to show the different methods of 
celebrating it in these kingdoms. With the 
generality Christmas is looked upon as a festival 
in the most literal sense, and held sacred by good 
eating and drinking. These, indeed, are the 
most distinguishing marks of Christmas : the 
revenue from the malt-tax, and the duty upon 
wines, &c. on account of these twelve days, has 
always been found to increase considerably : 
and it is impossible to conceive the slaughter 
that is made among the poultry and the hogs in 
different parts of the country, to furnish the 
prodigious number of turkeys and cliines, and 
collars of brawn, that travel up, as presents, to 
the metropolis on this occasion. The jolly cit 
looks upon this joyous time of feasting, with as 
much pleasure as on the treat of a new-elected 
alderman, or a lord-mayor's day. Nor can the 
country farmer rail more against the game act, 
than many worthy citizens, who have ever 
since been debarred of their annual hare ; while 
their ladies can never enough regret their loss of 
the opportunity of displaying their skill, in 
making a most excellent pudding in the belly. 
But these notable housewives have still the con- 
solation of hearing their guests commend the 
miuce-pies without meat, which we are assured 
wex'e made at home, and not like the ordinary 
heavy things from the pasti'y-cook's. These 
good people would, indeed, look upon the absence 
of mince-pies as the highest violation of Christ- 
mas ; and have remarked with concern the dis- 
regard that has been shown of late years to that 
old English repast : for this excellent British 
olio is as essential to Christmas, as pancake to 
Shrove Tuesday, tansy to Easter, frumity to 
Mid-lent Sunday, or goose to Michaelmas day. 
And they think it no wonder that our finical 
gentry should be so loose in their principles, as 
well as weak in their bodies, when the solid, 
substantial Protestant mince-pie has given place 
among them to the Roman Catholic amulets, and 
the light, puffy, heterodox ^^efs de religieuses. 

As this season used formerly to be welcomed 
in with more than usual jollity in the country, 
it is probable that the Christmas remembrances, 
with which the waggons and stage-coaches are 
at this time loaded, first took their rise from the 



laudable custom of distributing provisions at 
this severe quarter of the year to the poor. But 
these presents are now seldom sent to those who 
are really in want of them, but are designed as 
compliments to the great from their inferiors, 
and come chiefly from the tenant to his rich 
landlord, or from the rector of a fat living, as a 
kind of tythe, to his patron. Nor is the old 
hospitable English custom, of keeping open- 
house for the poor neighbourhood, any longer 
regarded. We might as soon expect to see plum- 
porridge fill a tureen at the ordinary at White's, 
as that the lord of a manor should assemble bis 
poor tenants to make merry at the great house. 
The servants now swill the Christmas ale by 
themselves in the hall, while the squire gets 
drunk with his brother foxhunters in the smok- 
ing-room. 

There is no rank of people so heartily rejoiced 
at the arrival of this joyful season, as the order 
of servants, join-neymen, and apprentices, and 
the lower sort of people in general. No master 
or mistress is so rigid as to refuse them a holi- 
day ; and by remarkable good luck the same 
circumstance, which gives them an opportunity 
of diverting themselves, procures them money 
to support it, by the tax which custom has im- 
posed upon us in the article of Christmas boxes. 
The butcher and the baker send their journey- 
men and apprentices to levy contributions on 
their customers, which are paid back again in 
tlie usual fees to Mr. John and Mrs. Mary. 
This serves the tradesman as a pretence to 
lengthen out his bill, and the master and mis- 
tress to lower the wages on account of the vails. 
The Christmas box was formerly the bounty ot 
well-disposed people, who were willing to con- 
ti'ibute something towards rewarding the in- 
dustrious, and supplying them with necessaries. 
But the gift is now almost demanded as a right ; 
and our journeymen, apprentices, &c. are grown 
so polite, that instead of reserving their Christ- 
mas-box for its original use, their ready cash 
serves them only for present pocket-money ; and 
instead of visiting their friends and relations, they 
commence the fine gentlemen of the week. The 
sixpenny hop is crowded with ladies and gentle- 
men from the kitchen ; the syrens of Catherine- 
street charm many a holiday gallant into their 
snares ; and the play-houses ai'e filled with 
beaux, wits, and critics, from Cheapside and 
White-Chapel. The barrows are surrounded 
with raw lads setting their halfpence against 
oranges ; and the greasy cards and dirty crib- 
bage- board employ the genteeler gamesters in 
every ale-house. A merry Christmas has 
ruined many a promising young fellow, who 
has been flush of money at the beginning of the 
week, but before the end of it has committed a 
robbery on the till fcr more. 

But in the midst of this general festivity there 
are some so far from giving in to any extra- 



84 



ordinary merriment, that they seem more gloomy 
than usual, and appear with faces as dismal as 
the month in which Christmas is celebrated. 
I have heard a plodding citizen most giiev- 
ously complain of the great expense of house- 
keeping at this season, when his own and his 
wife's relations claim the privilege of kindred to 
eat him out of house and home ; then again, con- 
sidering the present total decay of trade, and the 
great load of taxes, it is a shame, they think, that 
poor shopkeepers should be so fleeced and plun- 
dered, under the pretence of Christmas-boxes. 
But if tradesmen have any reason to murmur at 
Christmas, many of their customers, on the other 
hand, tremble at its approach ; as it is made a 
sanction to every petty mechanic, to bi-eak in up- 
on their joy, and disturb a gentleman's repose 
at this time by bringing in his bill. 

Others, who used to be very merry at this sea- 
son, have within this year or two been quite dis- 
concerted. To put them out of their old way, is 
to put them out of humour ; they have there- 
fore quarrelled with the almanack, and refuse to 
keep their Christmas according to act of parlia- 
ment. My cousin Village informs me, that this 
obstinacy is very common in the country ; and 
that many still persist in waiting eleven days for 
their mirth, and defer their Christmas till the 
blowing of the Glastonbury thorn. In some, 
indeed, this cavilling with the calendar has been 
only the result of close economy ; who, by evading 
the expense of keeping Christmas with the rest 
of the world, find means to neglect it, when the 
general time of celebrating it is over. Many 
have availed themselves of this expedient : and 
I am acquainted with a couple, who ai'e eiu'aged 
at the New Style on another account ; because it 
puts them to double expenses, by robbing them 
of the opportunity of keeping Christmas-day 
and their wedding-day at the same time. 

As to persons of fashion, this annual carnival 
is worse to them than Lent, or the empty town 
in the middle of summer. The boisterous mer- 
riment, an awkward affectation of politeness 
among the vulgar, interrupts the cotu'se of their 
refined pleasui'es, and drives them out of town 
for the holidays. The few who remain are very 
much at a loss how to dispose of their time; for 
the theatres at this season are opened only for 
the reception of school-boys and apprentices, 
and there is no public place where a person of ^ 
fashion can appear, without being suiTounded 
with the dirty inhabitants of St. Giles's, and the 
brutes from the Wapping side of Westminster. 
These unhappy sufferers are really to be pitied ; 
and since Christmas-day has to persons of dis- 
tinction a great deal of insipidity about it, 1 can- 
not enough applaud an ingenious lady, who sent 
cards round to all her acqimintance, inviting 
them to a rout on that day ; which they declar- 
ed was the happiest thought in the world, be- 
cause Christmas-day is so like Sunday. 



THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 49. 

No. 49.] THURsnAV, Jak. 2, 17j5. 



Est hi consilio matrona aJmot-y^-elanis 
Emeritd quce cessat icu : ienitnlUi vrima 
IIuJus crit s posthan) aiatc atque arte minores 
Ccnsebunt : tanquamjamce dtscrimen agatur, 
Aul animcc tanta est qvcurendi curadecoris. Jlt. 

Here ev»ry belle, fcr taste ind beauty known. 

Shall meet to fix the fasftion of a gown : 

Of caps and ruffles hold the grave debate. 
As of their lives they would decide the fate. 
Life, soul, and all, would claim th' attention less. 
For life and soul is centred all— 



TO MR. TOV.'N. 



Sir, 



Contested elections and dtuble returns being 
at present the general topic of discourse, a sub- 
ject in which the ladies, methinks, are but little 
concerned, I have a scheme to propose to you in 
their behalf, which I doubt not but you, as their 
professed patron, will use your eloquence to re- 
commend, and your authority to ei-force. It has 
long been a matter of real concern to every well- 
wisher to the fair sex, that the men should be 
allowed the free choice of representatives, to 
whom they can make every real or protended 
gi'ievance known, while the women are deprived 
of the same privilege ; when in reality they have 
many grievances utterly unknown and un- 
thought of by the men, and which cannot be re- 
dressed but by a female parliament. 

I do not, indeed, pretend to the honour of first 
projecting this scheme, since an assembly of this 
natm'e has been proposed before : but as it ap- 
pears to me so necessary, I would advise that 
writs be immediately issued out for calling a pai- 
liament of women; which for the future should 
assemble every winter, and be dissolved every 
third year. My reason for shortening the time 
of their sitting proceeds from the reflection, that 
full as much business will be done, at least as 
many speeches will be made, by women in three 
years, as by men in seven. To this assembly 
every county and city in England shall send two 
members ; but from this privilege I would utter- 
ly exclude every borough, as we shall presently 
see that they can have no business to transact 
there. But as I would have their number at least 
equal to that of the other parliament, the defi- 
ciency should be supplied by the squares and 
great streets at tlie court end of the town, each 
of which should be represented by one of their 
own inhabitants. In humble imitation of the 
Houses of Lords and Commons, the ladies ol 
peers (whether spiritual or temporal) should sit 
here in their own right, the others by election 
only; any woman to be qualified, whose hus- 
band, or even whose father ( for I woidd by no 
means exclude the unmarried Indies) is qualified 
to be chosen into the other. In the same manner. 



No. 49.3 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



85 



whatever entitles the husband or father to vote 
at that election, should entitle his wife or daugh- 
ter to vote at this. 

Having settled this point, it now remains to 
adjust the subjects which they are to treat of; 
and these we shall find to be, indeed, of the last 
importance. What think you. Sir, of the rise 
and fall of fashions, of as much consequence to 
them as the rise and fall of kingdoms is to us? 
of the commencing a new acquaintance, equiva- 
lent to our making a new alliance ? and adjust- 
ing the ceremonial of a rout or ball, as interest- 
ing as the preliminaries of a treaty or a congress ? 
These subjects, and these alone, will sufficiently 
employ them every sessions ; and as their judg- 
ment must be final, how delightful will it be to 
have bills brought in to dutermine how many 
inches of the leg or neck may lawfully be ex- 
posed, hovv many courtesies at a public place 
amount to an acquaintance, and what are the 
precise privileges of birth or fortune, that en- 
title the possessors to give routs or drums, on 
week-days or on Sundays. Whoever should 
presume to transgress against these laws might 
be punished suitably to their offences ; and be 
banished from public places, or be condemned to 
do penance in linsey-woolsey : or if any female 
should be convicted of immodesty, she might be 
outlawed ; and then (as these laws would not 
bind the nymphs of Drury) we should easily 
distinguish a modest woman, as the phrase is, if 
not by her looks, at least by her dress and ap- 
pearance ; and the victorious Fanny might then 
be suffered to strike bold strokes without rival- 
ry or imitation. If a man, too, should be found 
so grossly offending against the laws of fashion, 
as to refuse a member a bow at a play, or a sa- 
lute at a wedding, how suitably would he be 
punished by being reprimanded on his knees in 
such an assembly, and by so fine a woman as 
we may suppose the speaker would be ? Then, 
doubtless, would a grand committee sit on the 
affair of hoops ; and were they established in 
their present form by proper authoritj^, doors 
and boxes might be altered and enlarged accord- 
ingly. Then should we talk as familiarly of the 
visit bill as of the marriage bill ; and with what 
pleasure should we peruse the regulations of the 
committee of dress ? Every lover of decorum 
would be pleased to hear, that refractory females 
were taken into custody by the usher of the 
black fan. The double return of a visit would 
occasion as many debates as the double return 
for a certain county ; and at the eve of an elec- 
tion, how pretty would it be to see the ladies of 
the shire going about mounted on their white 
palfreys, and canvassing for votes. 

Till this great purpose is attained, I see not 
how the visible enormities in point of di'ess, and 
failures in point of ceremony, can effectually be 
prevented. But then, and not before, I shall 
hope to see politeness and good breeding dis- 



tingnished from formality and affectation, and 
dresses invented that will improve, not diminish 
the charms of the fair, and rather become than 
disguise the wearers. 

I am, Sir, yours, &c. 

Timothy Canvass. 

I am much obliged to my correspondent for 
his lettei', and heaj'tily wish that this scheme was 
carried into execution. The liberties daily taken 
in point of dress demand proper restrictions. 
The ancients settled their national habit by law : 
but the dress of our own country is so very fluc- 
tuating, that if the great grandmothers of the 
pi-esent generation were to arise they would not 
be able to guess at their postenty from their 
dress, but would fancy themselves in a strange 
country. As these affairs fall more immediate- 
ly under the cognizance of the ladies, the female 
world in general would soon be sensible of the 
advantages accruing from a female parliament; 
and though ladies of fashion might probably 
claim some peculiar liberties in dress by their 
privilege, it might naturally be expected that this 
wise assembly would at least keep the rest of the 
sex in order ; nor suffer enormous hoops to 
spread themselves across the whole pavement, to 
the detriment of all honest men going upon busi- 
ness along the street ; nor permit the chand- 
ler's wife to retail half- quarterns from behind 
the counter, in a short stomacher and without 
a handkerchief. 

I am aware that a considerable objection may 
be brought against this scheme; to wit, that a 
female parliament (like those of the men) may 
be subject to coi'ruption, and made dependent on 
a coui't. The enormous Elizabeth rutf, and the 
awkward Queen of Scots mob, are fatal instances 
of the evil influence which courts have upon 
fashions ; and as no one can tell the power which 
a British queen might have over the councils of 
a female parliament, future ages might perhaps 
see the stays bolstered out into hump-backs, or 
the petticoats let down to conceal a bandy leg, 
from the same servile complaisance which warp- 
ed the necks of Alexander's courtiers. 

But though a parliament on the foregoing 
scheme has not yet taken place, an institution of 
the like nature has been contrived among the 
order of females who (as I mentioned in a 
former paper) advertise for gentlemen to play at 
cards with them. The reader may remember, 
that some time ago, an advertisement appeared 
in the public papers, from the Covent- Garden 
Society; in which it was set forth, that one of 
their members was voted common. This very 
society is composed of those agreeable young 
ladies, whose business it is to play at cards 
with those gentlemen, who have good nature 
and fortune sufficient to sit down contented 
with being losers. It is divided, like the upper 
and lower Houses of Parliament, into Litdiea 



86 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 50, 



and Commons. The upper order of card- 
players take their seats according to the rank of 
those who game at high stakes witli them; 
while the Commons are made up of the lower 
sort of gamblers within the hundreds of Drury 
ajid Covent- Garden. Every one is obliged to 
pay a certain tax out of her card-money ; and 
the revenue arising from it is applied to the 
levying of hoop -petticoats, sacks, petenlairs, 
caps, handkerchiefs, aprons, &c. to be used out 
nightly according to the exigence and degree of 
the members. M.'my revolutions have happened 
in this society since its institution : a commoner 
in the space of a few weeks has been called up to 
the House of Ladies; and another, who attii'st 
sat as peeress, has been suddenly degraded, and 
voted common. 

More particulars of this society have not come 
to my knowledge ; but their design seems to be, 
to erect a commonwealth of themselves, and to 
rescue their liberties from being invaded by those 
who have presumed to tyrannize over them. If 
this practice of playing their own cards, and 
shuffling for themselves, should generally pre- 
vail among all the agreeable j'oung gamesters of 
Covent- Garden, I am concerned to think what 
will become of the venerable sisterhood of 
Douglas, Haddock, and Noble, as well as the 
fraternity of Harris, Derry, and the rest of those 
gentlemen, who have hitherto acted as groom- 
porters, and had the principal direction of the 
game. From such a combination it may greatly 
be feared, that the honourable profession of pimp 
will in a short time become as useless as that of 
a Fleet-parson. 



No. 50.] Thursday, Jan. 9, 1735. 



Pacipit humones odium, lucisque videndce, 

Ui sibi consiscani mccrenfi pecfore lethum. Li'crbt. 

O deaf to nature, and to Heaven's command ! — 
Against tliyself to lift the murdering hand ! 
O damn'd despair! — to shun the living Ught, 
And plunge thy guilty soul in endless night ! 

The last sessions deprived us of the only surviv- 
ing member of a society, which (during its short 
existence) was equal both in principles and i)rac- 
tJce to the Mohocks and Hell- Fire- Club of tre- 
mendous memory. This society was composed 
of a iitw broken gamesters and desperate young 
rakes, who threw the small remains of their 
bankrupt fortunes into one common stock, and 
thence assumed the name of the Last Guinea 
Club. A short life and a merry one was their 
favourite maxim ; and they determined, when 
their finances should be quite exhausted, to die 
as they had lived, like gentlemen. Some of tlieir 
members had the luck to get a reprieve by a good 



run at cards, and others by snapping up a rich 
heiress or a dowager ; while the r«st, who were 
not cut ofF in the natural way by duels or the 
gallows, very resolutely made their quietus with 
laudanum or the pistol. The last that remained 
of this society had very calmly prepared for his 
own execution ; he had cocked his pistol, de- 
liberately placed the muzzle of it to his temple, 
and was just going to pull the trigger, when he 
bethought himself that he could employ it to 
better purpose upon Hounslow Heath. This 
brave man, however, had but a very short res- 
pite, and was obliged to suffer the iguomiay of 
going out of the world in the vulgar way, by a 
halter. 

The enemies of play will perhaps consider 
those gentlemen, who boldly stake their whole 
fortunes at the gaming-table, in the same view 
with these desperadoes ; and they may even go 
so far as to regard the polite and honourable as- 
sembly at White's as a kind of Last Guinea Club. 
Nothing, they will say, is so fluctuating as the pro- 
perty of a gamester, who (when luck runs against 
him) throws away whole acres at every cast of 
the dice, and whose houses are as unsure a pos- 
session, as if they were built with cards. Many, 
indeed, have been reduced to their last guinea at 
this genteel gaming-house ; but the must inve- 
terate enemies to White's must allow, that it is 
but now and then, that a gamester of quality, 
who looks upon it as a toss-up whether there 
is another world, takes his chance, and des- 
patches himself, when the cdds are against him 
in this. 

But however free the gentlemen of AV^hite's 
may be from any imputation of this kind, it 
must be confessed, that suicide begins to prevail 
so generally, that it is the most gallant exploit, 
by which our modern heroes choose to signalize 
themselves ; and in this, indeed, they behave 
with uncommon prowess. From the days of 
Plato down to these, a suicide has always been 
compared to a soldier on guard deserting his 
post ; but 1 should rather consider a set of these 
desperate men, who rush on certain death, as a 
body of troops sent out on the forlorn hope. They 
meet every face of death, however horrible, 
with the utmost resolution : some blow their 
brains out with a pistol ; some expire, like So- 
crates, by poison ; some fall, like Cato, on the 
point of their own swords ; and others, who 
have lived like Nero, aflect to die like Seneca, 
and bleed to death. The most exalted geniuses I 
ever remen)berto have heard of, %vere a party of 
reduced gamesters, who bravely resolved to pledge 
each other in a bowl of laudanum. I was also 
lately informed of agentlemau, who went among 
his usual companions at the gaming-table the day 
before he made away with himself, and coolly 
questioned them which they thought the easiest 
and gentcelest method of going out of the world ; 
for there is as much difference between a raciui 



No. 50.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



87 



person and a man of quality in their manner of | 
destroying themselve?, as in their manner of 
living. The poor sneaking wretch, starving in a 
garret, tucks himself up in his list garters ; a se- 
cond, crossed in love, drowns himself like a blind 
puppy, in Rosamond's Pond ; and a third cuts 
his throat with his own razor. But the man of 
fashion almost always dies by a pistol ; and even 
the cobbler of any spirit goes off by a dose or two 
extraordinary of gin. 

But this false notion of courage, however 
noble it may appear to the desperate and aban- 
doned, in reality amounts to no more than the 
resolution of the highwayman, who shoots him- 
self with bis own pistol, when he finds it impos- 
sible to avoid being taken. All practicable 
means, therefore, should be devised to extirpate 
such absurd bravery, and to make it appear eve- 
ry way horrible, odious, contemptible, and ridi- 
culous. From reading the public prints a foreign- 
er might be naturally led to imagine, that we 
are the most lunatic people in the whole world. 
Almost every day informs us, that the coroner's 
inquest has sat on the body of some miserable 
suicide, and brought in their verdict lunacy ; but 
it is very well known, that the inquiry has not 
been made into the state of mind of the deceased, 
but into his fortune and family. The law has 
indeed provided that the deliberate self-murderer 
should be treated like a brute, and denied the 
rites of burial ; but among hundreds of lunatics 
hy purchase, 1 never knew this sentence exe- 
cuted but on one poor cobbler, who hanged him- 
self in his own stall. A pennyless poor dog, 
who has not left enough to defray the funeral 
charges, may perhaps be excluded the church- 
yard : but self-murder by a pistol genteelly 
mounted, or the Paris-hilted sword, qualifies 
the polite owner for a sudden death, and entitles 
him to a pompous burial, and a monument set- 
ting forth his virtues in Westminster Abbey. 
Every man in his sober senses must wish, that 
the most severe laws that could possibly be con- 
trived were enacted against suicides. This 
shocking bravado never did (and I am confident 
never will!) prevail among the more delicate 
and tender sex in our own nation : though history 
informs us that the Roman ladies were once so 
infatuated as to thi'ow off the softness of their 
nature, and commit violence on themselves, tiU 
the madness was curbed by exposing their naked 
bodies in the public streets. This, I think, 
would afford a hint for fixing the like marks 
of ignominy on our male suicides; and I would 
have every lower wretch of this sort dragged at 
the cart's tail, and afterwards hung in chains at 
his own door, or have his quarters put up in 
terrorem in the most public places, as a rebel to 
his Maker. But that the suicide of quality 
might be treated with more respect, he should 
be indulged in having his wounded corpse and 
shattered brains lie (as it were) in state for some 



days ; of which dreadful spectacle we may con- 
ceive the horror from the following picture 
drawn by Dryden : — 

The slayer of himself too saw I there ; 
The gore congeal'd was clotted in his hair; 
With eyes half clos'd, and mouth wide ope he lay. 
And grim as when he breath 'd his sullen soul away.". 
Dryden's Fables, 

The common murderer has his skeleton pre- 
served at Surgeon's Hall, in order to deter othei*s 
from being guilty of the same crime ; and I 
think it would not be improper to have a chai'- 
nel-house set apart to receive the bones of these 
mox'e unnatural self-murderers, in which monu- 
ments should be erected giving an account of 
their deaths, and adoi'ned with the glorious en- 
signs of their rashness, the rope, the knife, the 
sword, or the pistol. 

The cause of these frequent self-murders 
among us has been generally imputed to the pe- 
culiar temperature of our climate. Thus a dull 
day is looked upon as a natural order of execu- 
tion, and Englishmen must necessarily shoot, 
hang, and drown themselves in November. 
That our spirits are in some measure influenced 
by the air cannot be denied ; but we are not 
such mere barometers, as to be driven to despair 
and death by the small degi'ee of gloom, that our 
winter brings with it. If we have not so much 
sunshine as some countries in the world, we have 
infinitely more than many others ; and I do not 
hear that men despatch themselves by dozens in 
Russia or Sweden, or that they are unable to 
keep up their spirits even in the total darkness of 
Greenland. Our climate exempts us from many 
diseases, to which other more southern nations 
are naturally subject ; and I can never be per- 
suaded, that being born near the North pole is a 
physical cause for self-murder. 

Despair, indeed, is the natural cause of these 
shocking actions ; but this is commonly despair 
brought on by wilful extravagance and debauch- 
ery. These first involve men in difficulties, and 
then death at once delivers them of their lives 
and their cares. For my part, when 1 see a 
young profligate wantonly squandering his for- 
tune in bagnios or at the gaming-table, I can- 
not help looking on him as hastening his own 
death, and in a manner digging his own grave. 
As he is at last induced to kill himself by mo- 
tives arising from his vices, I consider him as 
dying of some disease which those vices natu- 
rally produce. If his extravagance has been 
chiefly in luxurious eating and drinking, I ima- 
gine him poisoned by his wines, or surfeited by 
a favourite dish ; and if he has thrown away his 
estate in bawdy houses, I conclude him destroy- 
ed by rottenness and filthy disease. 

Another principal cause of the frequency of 
suicide is the noble spirit of free-thinking, Avhich 
has diffused itself among all ranks of people. 



88 



The libertine of fashion has too refined a taste 
to trouble himself at all about a soul or an here- 
after : but the vulgar infidel ia at wonderful 
pains to get rid of his Bible, and labours to per- 
suade himself out of his religion. For this pur- 
pose he attends constantly at the disputing socie- 
ties, where he heai-s a great deal about free-will, 
free-agency, and predestination, till at length he 
is convinced that man is at liberty to do as he 
pleases, lays his misfortunes to the charge of 
Providence, and comforts himself that he was 
inevitably destined to be tied up in his own gar- 
ters. The courage of these heroes proceeds from 
the same principles, whether they fall by their 
own hands, or those of Jack Ketch : the suicide 
of whatever rank looks death in the face without 
shrinking ; as the gallant rogue affects an easy 
imconcern under Tyburn, throws away the 
psalm-book, bids the cart drive oiF with an oath, 
and swings like a gentleman. 

If this madness should continue to grow more 
and more epidemical, it will be expedient to have 
a biU of suicides distinct from the common bill 
of mortality, brought in j'early ; in which should 
be set down the number of suicides, their me- 
thods of destroying themselves, and the likely 
causes of their doing so. In this, I believe, we 
should find but few martyi-s to the weather ; 
but their deaths would commonly be imputed to 
despair, produced by some causes similar to the 
following. In the little sketch of a bill of suicide 
underneath, I have left blanks for the date of the 
year, as well as for the number of self-murder- 
ers, their manner of dj'ing, &c. which would 
natiu*aUy be filled up by the proper persons, if 
ever this scheme should be put into execution. 

Bill of Suicide for the year 

Of Newmarket Races 

Of Kept Mistresses 

Of Electioneering 

Of Lotteries 

Of French Claret, French Lace, PVench 
Cooks, and French Disease .... 

Of White's 

Of Chinese Temples, &c 

Of a Country Seat 

Of a Town House 

Of Fortune-hunting 

Of a Tour through France and Italy 

Of Lord Bolingbroke 

Of the Robin Hood Society .... 

Of an Equipage 

Of a Dog Kennel 

Of Covent Garden 

Of Plays, Operas, Concerts, Masque- 
rades, Routs, Drums, &c. 

Of keeping the best Company 



THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 51. 

No. 51.] Thursday, Jatt. 16, 1765. 



Adde quod ahsinnunt vires, pcrvntque Inhore : 
Adde quod tdcrius sitr mutu degitur atas. 
Labilur interea res, et vadimoniajlunt, 
Ijanguent qfficia, atquc cegrolatjama vaciUans. 

Llceet. 
When haughty mistresses our souls enthral. 
They waste our strength, our fortune, fame, and all. 
Mortgage on mortgage loads the bankrupt cull. 
Who gives up wealth and honour for a trull. 

SixcE pleasure is almost the only pursuit of a 
fine gentleman, it is very necessary, for the 
maintaining his consequence and character, that 
he should have a girl in keeping. Intriguing 
with women of fashion, and debauching trades- 
men's daughters, naturally happen in the com- 
mon course of gallantry ; but this convenient 
female, to fill up the intervals of business, is the 
principal mark of his superior taste and quality. 
Every priggish clerk to an attorney, or pert 
apprentice, can throw away his occasional guinea 
in Covent Garden ; but the shortness of their 
finances will not permit them to persevere in 
debauchery with the air and spirit of a man of 
quality. The kept mistress (which those half- 
reprobates dai-e not think of) is a constant part 
of the retinue of a complete fine gentleman j and 
is, indeed, as indispensable a part of his equi- 
page, as a French valet de cliambre, or a four- 
wheeled post-chaise. 

It was fonnerly the fashion among the ladies 
to keep a monkey. At that time every woman 
of quality thought herself obliged to follow the 
mode ; and even the merchants' wives in the city 
had their fashionable pugs to play tricks and 
break china. A girl in keeping is as disagreeable 
to some of our men of pleasure, as pug was to 
some ladies ; but they must have one to spend 
money and do mischief, that they may be reckon- 
ed young fellows of spirit. Hence it happens 
that many gentlemen maintain girls, who in 
fact, are little more than their nominal mistress- 
es ; for they see them as seldom, and behave to 
them with as much indifference, as if they were 
their wives ; however, as the woman in a manner 
bears their name, and is maintained by them, 
they may appear in the world with the genteel 
character of a keeper. I have known several 
gentlemen take great pains to heighten their 
reputation in this way ; and turn off a first 
mistress, merely because she -was not sufficiently 
known, for the sake of a celebrated Avoman of the 
town, a dancer, or an actress \ and it is always 
the first step of an Englishman of fashion after 
his arrital at Paris, to take one of the Filles 
d'Opera under his protection. It was btit the other 
day, that Florio went abroad, and left his girl to 
roll about the town in a chariot, with an urdimited 
order on his banker; and almost as soon as he 
got to France, took a smart girl off the stage, to 



No. 51.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR 



S9 



make as genteel a fi^ire at Paris. In short, as 
a gentleman keeps running liorses, goes to 
White's, and gets into parliament, for the name 
of the thing ; so must he likewise have his kept 
misti-ess, because it is the fashion : and I was 
mightily pleased with hearing a gentleman once 
boast, that he lived like a man of quality — 
'' For," says he, " I have a post-chaise and 
never ride in it ; I have a wife and never see her, 
and I keep a mistress and never lie vv-ith her." 

But, if these sort of keepers "U'ho never care a 
farthing for their mistresses, are to be laughed 
at, those who are really fond of their dulcineas 
are to be pitied. The most hen-pecked husband 
that ever bore the grievous yoke of a shrew, is 
not half so miserable, as a man who is subject to 
the humours and unaccountable caprice of a cun- 
ning slut, who finds him in her power. Her be- 
haviour will continually give him new occasion 
of jealousy ; and pei-haps, she will really dispense 
her favours to every rake in town, that will bid 
up to her price. She will smile when she wants 
money ; be insolent ^vhen she does not ; and in 
short leave no artifice untried, to plague his 
heart, and drain his pocket. A friend of mine 
used constantly to rail at the slavish condition of 
maiTied men, and the tyranny of petticoat go- 
vernment : he therefore prudently resolved to 
.ive an uncontrolled bachelor, and for that rea- 
son pitched upon a country girl, who should 
serve him as a handmaid. Detej-mining to keep 
her in a very snug and retired manner, he had 
even calculated how much she would save him 
in curtailing his ordinary expenses at taverns 
and bagnios : but this scheme of economy did not 
last long ; for the artful jade soon contrived " to 
wind her close into his easy heart," and inveigled 
him to maintain her in all the splendour and 
eclat of a first-rate lady of pleasure. He at first 
treated her with all the indifference of a fashion- 
able husband : but as soon as she foimd herself 
to be entire mistress of his affections, it is sur- 
prising to think what pains she took to bring 
him to the most abject compliance with all her 
whimsies, and to tame him to the patient thing 
he now is. A frown on his part would frequent- 
ly cost him a brocade, and a tear from her was 
sure to extort a new handkerchief or an apron. 

Upon any slight quarrel O she would leave 

him that moment : and though the baggage 

had more cunning than to hazard an intrigue 
with any one else, she would work upon his jea- 
lousy by continually twitting him with— She 
knew a gentleman, who would scorn to use her 

so barbaroiisly, — and she would go to him, if 

she could be sure she was not with chUd. — This 
last circumstance was a coup de reserve, which 
never failed to bring about a reconciliation : nay, 
I have kno-\vn her make great use of breeding 
qualms upon occasion ; and tilings were once 
come to such an extremity, that she was even 
forced to have recourse to a sham miscarriage to 



prevent their separation. He has often been 
heard to declare, that if he ever had a child by 
her, it should take its chance at the Foundling 
Hospital. He had lately an opportunity of put- 
ting this to a trial : but the bare hinting such a 
barbarous design thi'ew the lady into hysterics. 
However, he was determined that the babe, as 
soon as it was born, should be put out to nurse, 
— he hated the squall of children. Well ! madam 
was brought to bed : she could not bear the dear 
infant out of her sight ; and it would kill her not 
to suckle it herself. The father was therefore 
obliged to comply ; and an acquaintance caught 
him the other mornings stirring the pap, holding 
the clouts before the fire, and (in a word) dwin- 
dled into a mere nurse. Such is the transfor- 
mation of this kind keeper, whose character is 
still more ridiculous than that of a fondlewife 
among husbands. The amours, indeed, of these 
fond souls, commonly end one of these two 
Avays : they either find themselves deserted by 
their mistress, when she has effectually ruined 
their constitution and estate ; or, after as many- 
years cohabitation as ^vould have tired them of 
a wife, they grow so doatingly fond of their whore, 
that, by marriage, they make her an honest wo- 
man, and perhaps a lady of quality. 

The most unpardonable sort of keepers are 
married men and old men. I will give the rea- 
der a short sketch of each of these characters, and 
leave him to judge for himself. 

Cynthio, about two years ago, was married to 
Clarinda, one of the finest women in the world. 
Her temper and disposition were as agi-eeable as 
her person, and her chief endeavoxir was to 
please her husband. But Cynthio's foUy and 
vanity soon got the better of his constancy and 
gratitude ; and it was not six months after his 
mari'iage, before he took a girl he Tvas formerly 
acquainted with into keeping. His dear Polly 
nses him like a dog : and he is cruel enough to 
revenge the ill treatment he receives from her 
upon his wife. He seldom visits her, but when 
his wench has put him out of humoiu" ; and once, 
though indeed unloioivingiy, communicated to 
her a filthy disease, for which he vras obliged to 
his mistress. Yet is he still so infatuated as to 
doat on this vile hussy, and wishes it in his 
poTver to annul his marriage, and legitimate his 
bastirds by Polly. Though it is palpable to every 
one but Cynthio, that Polly has no attraction 
but the name of mistress, and Clarinda no fault 
but being his wife. 

Sir Thrifty Gripe is arrived at his grand cli- 
macteric, and has just taken a girl into keeping. 
Till very lately, the multiplication table was his 
rule of life, and ' a penny saved is a penny got,' 
Avas his favourite maxim. But he has sud- 
denly deserted "Wingate for Rochester, and the 
'Change for Co vent- Garden. Here he met 
with the buxom Charlotte, who at once opened 
his heart and his purse, and soon began to scat- 
N 



90 



ter his guineas in paying her debts, and supply- 
ing her fresh expenses. Her equipage is as 
genteel and elegant as that of a diitchess ; and the 
wise men in the alley shake their heads at Sir 
Thrifty as the greatest spendthrift in town. Sir 
Thrifty was formerly man'ied to a merchant's 
daughter, who brought him a fortune of 20,000/. ; 
but, after she had two sons by him, he sent her 
into the North of Wales to live cheap, and pre- 
vent the probable expense of more children. His 
sons were obliged to an uncle for education ; and 
Sir Thrifty now scarce allows them enough to 
support them. His mistress and he almost al- 
ways appear together at public places, where she 
constantly makes a jest of him, while the old 
dotard dangles at her elbow, like January by the 
side of May. Thus Sir Thrifty lives, cursed by 
his own sons, jilted by his mistress, and laughed 
at by the rest of the world. 

It is very diverting to observe the shifts to 
which persons in middling or low life are re- 
duced, in order to bear this new incumbrance 
with which they sometimes choose to load them- 
selves. The extravagance of a girl has put 
many a clerk on defrauding his master, sent 
many a distressed gentleman's watch to the 
pawnbrokers, and his clothes to Monmouth 
street, as well as the poor gentleman himself to 
the gaming-table, or perhaps to Hounslow 
Heath. I know a templar, who always keeps 
a girl for the first month after he receives his 
allowance ; at the end of which his poverty 
obliges him to discard her, and live on mutton- 
chops and porter for the rest of the quarter : 
and it was but lately, that my mercer discovered 
his apprentice to be concerned with two others 
in an association for maintaining one trull com- 
mon to the whole three. 

This review of one of the chief sources of ex- 
travagance, in the higher and middling walks of 
life, will help us in accounting for the frequent 
mortgages and distresses in families of fashion, 
and the numerous bankruptcies in trade. Here 
also I cannot help obsei'ving, that, in this case, 
the misbehaviour of the women is in a great 
measure to be charged to the men : for how can 
it be ej^ected that a lady should take any plea- 
sure in discharging the domestic duties of a wife, 
when she sees her husband's affections placed 
abroad. Nothing, indeed, can be advanced in 
vindication of loose conduct in the fair sex ; but, 
considering our modern morals, it is surely not 
much to be wondered at, when the husband 
openly affronts his family by keeping a wench, 
if the wife also takes care to provide herself a 
gallant. O. 



THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 52. 

No. 52.] Thuksdav, Jan. 2V,, 1755. 



Quam si pusllantm insereres clioro. 
Mire sagaces faileret hospites 
Discritnen obscurum, solutii 

Criniims, ambiguoque vuHu. Hon. 

In form so delicate, so soft his skin, 
So fair in feature, and so smooth his chin, 
Quite to unman him nothing wants but this ; 
Put him in coats, and he's a very Miss. 

—— Kon ilia colo calathisve Mincrvce 
Feetnineus assueta inanus. \"ibo. 

See the she-rake her softer sex disown : 

The breeches more become her than the gown. 

I AM persuaded that my readers will agree with 
me in thinking, that the writers of the following 
letters ought to change clothes ; since, as the 
case stands at present, the one seems to be a 
pretty miss in breeches, and the other a blood in 
petticoats. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



Rocks, deserts, wilds, wastes, savages, and 
barbarians, make up the sum total of the odious 
country. I am just returned from a visit there ; 
and would not pass another three weeks in the 
same way to be lord of the manor. 

Having received frequent invitations from Sir 
Sampson Five-bars, and having heard much of 
the beauty of his three sisters, in an evil hour I 
took a resolution to sacrifice this Christmas to 
him at his seat in \Viltshire. I flattered myself 
with the hopes, that the novelty and oddness of 
the scene would serve me at least to laugh at ; 
and that if the rustics were not mere stocks 
and stones, my clothes and discourse would 
have taught them to talk and dress like human 
creatures. Need I tell you, that I was disap- 
pointed? Sir Sampson is what the country 
people call a hearty man : he has the shape and 
constitution of a porter, and is sturdy enough to 
encounter Bronghton without mufflers ; " when 
he speaks, thunder breaks ;" he hunts almost 
every morning, and takes a toast and tankard 
for his breakfast. You may easily imagine, that 
what was pleasure to him must be torture to me ; 
and, indeed, 1 would as soon draw in a mill, or 
carry a chair for my diversion, as follow any of 
their horrid country amusemeuts. But Sir 
Sampson, out of his abundant good-nature, in- 
sisted on lending me a gun, and showing me a 
day's sport of shooting. For this purpose he 
loaded me with a huge gun, threw a bag and 
pouch across my shoulders, and made me look 
for all the world like Robinson Crusoe. After 
I had followed him over three or four "ploughed 
fields, a servant, whowasAvith us, hallooed out, 
mark ! when the baronet's gun went off so sud- 
denly, that it threw me Into a swoon, z^nd at 



No. 52.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



91 



last I could hardly be convinced, that Sir Samp- 
son had shot nothing but a partridge. 

After this you will conclude, that I was not 
to be prevailed on to hunt. Once, indeed, Miss 
Fanny did tempt me to accompany her on a 
morning ride; but even of this I heartily re- 
pented. Miss Fanny, I found, valued neither 
hedge nor ditch, has the strength of a char-wo- 
man, and, in short, is more like Trulla in Hudi- 
bras, or Boadicea in the play, than a woman of 
fashion. Unluckily, too, the horse I rode was 
skittish and unruly ; so that while I was scamp- 
ering after Miss Fanny, a sudden start b]*ought 
me to the ground. I received no hurt ; but the 
fall so fluttered my spirits, that Miss Fanny was 
obliged to take me up behind her. When we 
arrived at the house, I was in the utmost con- 
fusion ; for the booby sen-ants stood gaping and 
gi'inning at ray disti'ess, and Sir Sampson him- 
self told me, with a laugh as honible as Cali- 
ban's, that he would lend me one of his maids to 
carry me out airing every morning. 

Besides these and fifty other mortifications, 1 
could scai'ce get any rest during the whole time 
I remained there : every other morning I was 
constantly waked by the hungi*y knight, just re- 
turned from the chace and bawling for dinner. 
My breakfast was what they called their after- 
noon tea, at which I alwayo assisted the ladles; 
fill" I should infallibly have perished, had I staid 
in thtf hall amidst the jargon of toasts and the 
fumes of tobacco. I thought, indeed, my time 
might be much more agreeably employed in the 
parlour ; but even here my disappointment was 
grievous past expression. These fair ones, for 
such they were, were hale indeed and ruddy ; 
and having been always cooped up, like turkeys 
in a pen, were really no better than belles sau- 
vnges, being totally ignorant of the genteel airs 
and languishing delicatesse of women of fashion. 
Their clothes were huddled on merely with a 
view to cover their nakedness ; and they had no 
notion, that their eyes were given them for any 
other purpose than to see, and (what is more 
strange) to read, forsooth ! For my part, Mr. 
Town, unless a woman can use her eyes to more 
advantage, I should as soon fall in love with my 
lap-dog or my monkey ; and what constitutes 
the diflFerence between a lady and her cookmaid, 
but her taste in dress? Mobs and handker- 
chiefs answer the end of covering, but the main 
purpose of dress is to reveal. I really almost 
begin to think, that these awkward creatures 
were so stupid and unaccountable, as to have no 
design upon me. To complete the oddity of their 
characters, these girls are constant at church, 
but never dreamed of promoting an intrigue 
there : employ their whole time there in praying, 
never heard of such things as cut fans, and are 
fe<» attentive to the queer old put of a preacher, 
that they scarce look or listen to any one else. 
After service too the doctor is alwavs taken home 



to dinner, and is as constant at table on Sunday 
as a roast sirloin and a plum-pudding. 

But even with these unaccountable females, I 
thought I could have passed my evenings tolera- 
bly, if I could have got them to cards, which 
have the charming faculty of rendering all 
women equally agreeable. But these, I found, 
they were almost wholly unaccustomed to. I 
once, indeed, heard the dear cards mentioned, 
and "vvas in hopes of something like an assembly. 
But what was my mortification, when, instead 
of seeing half a dozen card-tables, &c. set out, 
and whist, brag, or lansquenet going forward, I 
saw these sti'ange women place themselves at a 
huge round table with country girls and cherry- 
cheek'd bumpkins, to play, according to annual 
Christmas custom, at Pope Joan and Snip-snap- 
snorum ! 

It would be endless to recount the miseries I 
suffered in those three weeks. Even the neces- 
saries of life were denied me ; and I could scarce 
have been more at a loss among the Hottentots. 
Would you think it, Sir? though this house had 
a family in it, and a family of females too, not a 
drop of Benjamin wash, nor a dust of almond- 
powder could be procured there, nor indeed in 
all the parish ; and I was forced to scrub my 
hands with filthy wash-ball, which so ruined 
their complexion, that lying in dog-skin gloves 
will not recover them this fortnight. Add to 
this, that I never could dress for want of po- 
matum, so that my hair was always in diske- 
velle ; and I am sure I should not have been 
known at the dilettanti. At length. Sir, my snuff 
and salts werepretty nigh exhausted ; and to add 
to my distress, I lost my snuff-box. These los- 
ses were irreparable there ; not all the country 
afforded such snuff and salts as mine; 1 could 
as soon live without food as without either ; and 
not a box could I touch but one of Deard's, and 
of my own choosing. So I hurried up to town, 
and being just recovered from the fatigue of my 
journey, 1 send you this, in hopes that my wo- 
ful experience will deter all my friends from fol- 
lowing a chace as mad and hare-brained as any 
of Sir Sampson's ; since it is impossible to exist 
a day there with tolerable ease, and neither wit 
nor beauty are worth one pinch, unless they are 
improved by a town education. 

Sir, yours, &c. 

Dii.i,Y Dimple, 

My other correspondent, by the familiarity 
of her address, must be, I am sure, a woman of 
fashion : 

Dear Town, 

Did I know your christian name I would call 
you by it, to show you at first setting out, that 
I know the world, and was born and bred in 
high life. 

The design of this npistle is to express to yo J 



92 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 53. 



the uneasiness that some of us women of spirit 
feel at being incumbered with petticoats, and to 
convince you, by our way of life, that had we 
been men, we should have been bucks of the first 
liead. Be assured, however, that such of us as 
are unmarried are strictly virtuous. We have, 
indeed, been accused of copying the di-ess of the 
nymphs of Drury. And can any thing be in- 
vented more becoming ? Fanny, it must be 
owned, has taste. What so smart as a cocked 
hat ? and who but sees the advantages of short 
petticoats, unless it be some squire's awkward 
daughter, who never yet heard of a Poloneze, 
and never accidentally shows her leg without 
blushing ? 

It is true, their similitude in dress now and 
then occasions some droll mistakes. In the park 
the joke has been sometimes carried so far, I 
have been obliged to call the sentry : and how 
did a young templar start and stare, when having 
just made an appointment with him, he saw me 
step into a chair adorned with coronets ! 

If you frequent Ranelagh, you must undoubt- 
edly have seen or heard me there. I am always 
surrounded with a crowd of fellows ; and my 
voice and laugh is sure to be the loudest, especi- 
ally while Beard is singing. One is my dear 
lord, another my sweet colonel : and the rest I 
call Tom, or Dick, or Harry, as I would their 
footman. At the play I always enter in the first 
act. All the eyes of the house are turned upon 
me. I am quite composed. Before I am set- 
tled the act is over ; and to some I nod or cour- 
tesy, with others I talk and laugh, till the cur- 
tain falls. 

What would I give to change my sex ! Entre 
nous, I have a strong inclination to see the world 
in masquerade. If you love me, keep it secret, 
and should you hear of any prank more wild 
and buckish than usual, conclude it to be played 
by me in men's clothes. 

Yours as you mind me, 

Harriot Hare-Brain. 



No. 53.] Thursday, Jan. 30, 1755. 



-Aconita bibuntur. 



Drams are our bane, since poisons lurk within, 
And some by cordials fall, and some by gin. 

Nothing is more natural than for the quacks of 
all professions to recommend their wares to 
those persons who are most likely to stand in 
need of them. Thus Mrs. Giles very properly 
acquaints the fair sex, that she sells her fine 
compound for taking off superfluous hairs at a 
guinea an ounce : and ladies of quality are con- 
stantly informed, where they may be furnished 
with t)ie ncAvest bi'ocades, or tlie choicest variety 



of Chelsea China figui'es for deserts. It is very 
necessary, th:it the beau monde should be ac- 
quainted, that Eau de Luce may be had here 
in England, the same as at Paris ; but I must 
own, I was very much surprised at seeing re- 
peated advertisements in the papers from the 
" Rich Cordial Warehouse," introduced by au 
address " to the people of fashion." I cannot 
but look upon this as a libel on our persons of 
distinction, and I know not whether it may not 
be construed into scandalum .magnatum ,- as it 
tacitly insinuates, that our Right Honourables 
are no better than dram-drinkers. 

There is a well knovm story of the famous 
Rabelais, that having a mind to impose on the 
curicsity of his landlord, he filled several vials 
with an innocent liquor, and directed them with 
— Poison for the King, — Poison for the Dau- 
phin, — Poison for the Prime Minister, and for 
all the principal courtiers. The same might be 
said of these rich cordial liquors ; which how- 
ever they may recommend themselves to the 
people of fashion by their foreign titles and ex- 
traction, are to be considered as poisons in mas- 
querade : and instead of the pompous names of 
Eau d'Oa, Eau divine, and the like, I would 
have labels fixed on the bottles (in imitation of 
Rabelais) with — Poison for my Lord Duke, — 
Poison for the Viscount, — Poison for the Coun- 
tess. 

We live, indeed, in so polite an age, that no- 
thing goes down with us, but what is either 
imported from France and Italy, or dignified 
with a foreign appellation. Our dress must be 
entirely a la mode de Paris ; and I will venture 
to insure great success to the Monsieur tailor, 
who tells us in the public papers, that he has 
just beeri to France to see the newest fashions. 
A dinner is not worth eating, if not served up 
by a French cook : our ^vines are of the same 
countiy ; and the dram-drinkers of fashion are 
invited to comfort their spirits with rich cordials 
from Chamberry, NeuUly, and VIslc de Rhc. A 
plain man must undoubtedly smile at the allur- 
ing names, whioh are given to many of these ; 
nor is it possible to guess at their composition 
from their titles. The virtues, as well as the 
intent, of Viper Water may be Avell known ; but 
who would imagine, that Flora Granater, or 
Belle de Nuil should be intended only to signify 
a dram ? For my own part I should rather 
have taken Marasquino for an Italian fiddler, 
and have concluded that Jacomonoodi was no 
other than an Opera-singer. 

But dram-drinking, however different in tha 
phrase, is the same in practice, in every station 
of life ; and sipping rich cordials is no less de- 
testable, than, in the vulgar idiom, bunging your 
eye. What signifies it, whether we muddle with 
Eau de Millejh-urs or plain aniseed, or whether 
we fetch our drams from the Rich Cordiul 
Warehouse, or the Blackamoor and Still ? The 



No. 54.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



93 



lady of St. James's, who paints her face with 
frequent applications of Coffee or Chocolate 
Water, looks as hideous as the trollop of St. 
Giles's, who has laid on the same colours hy re- 
peated half quarterns of Gin Royal. There are 
many customs among the great, which are also 
practised by the lower sort of people ; and if 
persons of fashion must wrap up their drams in 
the disguise of a variety of specious titles, in this 
too they are rivalled hy the vulgar. JVIadam 
Gin has been christened by as many names as a 
German princess ; every petty chandler's shop 
will sell you Sky-blue, and every night-cellar 
furnish you with Holland Tape, three yards a 
penny. Nor can I see the difference between 
Oil of Venus, Spirit of Adonis, and Parfait 
Amour, for the use of our quality, and what 
among the vulgar is called Cupid's Eye-water, 
Strip me naked, and Lay me down softly. 

To those elegant and genteel appellations it is 
indeed, chiefly owing, that drams are not con- 
fined merely to the vulgar, but are in esteem 
among all ranks of people, and especially among 
the ladies. Many a, good woman, who would 
start at the very mention of strong waters, can- 
not conceive there can be any harm in a cordial. 
And as the fair sex are more particularly subject 
to a depression of spirits, it is no wonder that 
they should convert their apothecaries' shops in- 
to ricli cordial warehouses, and take drams by 
way of physic ; as the common people make gin 
serve for meat, drink, and clothes. The ladies 
perhaps may not be aware, that every time they 
have recourse to their Hartshorn or Lavender 
Drops, to drive away the vapours, they in effect 
take a Dram ? and they may be assured, that 
their Colic, Surfeit, and Plague Waters, are to 
be ranked among spirituous liquors, as well as 
the common stuff at the gin-shop. The College 
of Physicians, in their last review of the London 
Dispensatory, for this very reason expelled the 
Strong Water, generally known by the soothing 
name of Hysteric Water ; because it was a lure 
to the female sex to dram it by authority, and 
lo get tipsy secundiim artem. 

If any of my fair readers have at all given into 
this pernicious practice of dram-drinking, I 
must intreat them to leave it off betimes, before 
it has taken such hold of them as they can never 
sliake off. For the desire of drams steals upon 
them, and grows to be habitual, by impercepti- 
ble degrees : as those v/ho are accustomed to 
tf;ke opiates, are obliged to increase the dose 
gradually, and at last cannot sleep without it. 
The following letter may serve to convince them 
of the deplorable situation of a lady, who covers 
her drinking under the pi*etence of mending her 
constitution. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I have the misfortune to be married to a poor 
ckly creature, who laboui's under a comi-lica- 



tion of disorders, and which nothing can relieve 
but a continued course of strong liquors ; though, 
poor woman ! she would not else touch a dram 
for the world. Sometimes she is violently 
troubled with the tooth-ach, and then she is 
obliged to hold a glass of rum in her mouth, to 
numb the pain, at other times she is seized with 
a racking fit of the colic, and nothing will so 
soon give her ease as some right Holland's gin. 
She has the gout in her constitution ; and when- 
ever she feels a twitch of it, the only thing is 
sheer brandy to keep it from her head ; but this 
sometimes is too cold for her, and she is forced 
to drive it out of her stomach with true Irish 
usquebaugh. She is never free from the 
vapours, notwithstanding she is continually 
drinking hartshorn and water ; and ever since 
she miscarried, she is so hysterical in the night 
time, that shenever lies Avithout a cordial-water 
bottle by her bedside. I have paid the apothe- 
cary above fifty pounds for her in one year ; and 
his bill is laced down Avith nothing but drops, 
peppermint water, and a cordial draught re- 
peated. 

Her very diet must always be made hearten- 
ing, otherwise it will do her no good. Tea 
Avould make her low-spirited, except she was to 
qualify every dish with a large spoonful of rum. 
She has a glass of mountain with bitters an 
hour before dinner, to create an appetite ; and 
her stomach is so poor, that vrhen she is at table, 
she must force every bit down with a glass of 
Madeira. We usually have a tiff of punch to- 
gether in the evening ; but the acid would gripe 
her, and the water keep her awake all the night, 
if it was not made comfortable with more than 
an equal portion of spirit. 

But notwithstanding the grievous complaints 
she hourly labours under, she is very hale : and 
her complexion is, to all appearance, as healthy 
and florid as a milk-maid's : except, indeed, that 
her nose and forehead are subject to red pimples, 
blotches, and breakings out, which the apothe- 
cary tells me are owing to a kind of phlogistic 
humour in her blood. For my part, considering 
the quantity of combustibles she continually 
pours down, I should imagine the fire in her 
stomach would kindle a flame in her counte- 
nance ; and I should not wonder, if she looked 
as horrible, as those who hang their face over a 
bowl of Bui-nt Brandy at snap-dragon. 

I am, Sir, your humble servant, 

T. Timothy Nog g an. 



No. 54.] Thursdat, Feb. 6, 1755. 



Lusit amahUiter, donee jam scevus apertam 
In rabiem verti cccpitjocus. HoR, 

Frolics, for men of spirit only fit. 
Where rapes are jests, and murder is sheer wit. 
The noblest exploit of a man of the towxi, the 



94 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 54. 



hitfhest proof and utmost effort of his genius and 
pleasantry, is the frolic. This piece of humour 
consists in playing the most wild and exti-ava- 
gant pranks that wanioimess and debauchery 
can suggest ; and is the distinguishing character- 
istic of the buck and blood. 

These facetious gentlemen, whenever cham- 
paigne has put them in spirits, sally out, " flown 
with insolence and vvine," in quest of adven- 
tures. At such a time, the more harm they do, 
trifc more they show their wit; and their frolics, 
like the mirth of a monkey, are made up of 
mischief. 

The frolic formerly signified nothing more 
than a piece of innocent mirth and gayety ; but 
the modern sense of the word is much more 
lively and spirited. The Mohocks and the mem- 
bers of the Hell- Fire Club, the heroes of the last 
generation, were the first who introduced these 
elevated fi'olics, and struck out mighty good jokes 
from aU kinds of violence and blasphemy. The 
}>rosent race of bucks commonly begin their frolic 
In a tavern, and end it in the round-house ; and 
during the course of it, practise several mighty 
pretty pleasantries. There is a great deal of hu- 
mour in what is called beating the rounds, that 
is, in plain English, taking a torn' of the princi- 
pal bawdy-houses ; breaking of lamps and skir- 
mishes with watchmen are very good jests ; and 
the insulting any duU sober fools, that are quiet- 
ly trudging about their business, or a rape on 
a modest woman, are particularly facetious. 
Whatever is in violation of all decency and order, 
is an exquisite piece of v/it ; and in short, a frolic 
and playing the devil bear the same explanation 
in a modern glossary. 

It is surprising how much invention there is 
in these exploits, and how wine inspires these 
gentlemen with thoughts more extraordinary 
and suWime, than any sober man could ever have 
devised. I have known a whole company start 
fr(»m their chairs, and begin tilting at each other 
merely for their diversion. Another time, these 
exalted geniuses have cast lots which should be 
thrown out of the window ; and at another, 
make a bonfire of their clothes, and run naked 
into the streets. I remember a little gentleman, 
not above five feet high, who was resolved, 
merely for the sake of the frolic, to lie with the 
tall woman ; but the joke ended in his receiving a 
sound cudgelling from the hands of his Thalestris. 
It was no longer ago than last winter, that a 
party of jovial Templars set out an hour or two 
after midnight on a voyage to Lisbon, in order 
to get good Port. They took a boat at Temple 
Stairs, and prudently laid in by way of provi- 
sions, a cold venison pasty and two bottles of 
raspberry brandy; but when they imagined 
themselves just arrived at Gi'avesend, they found 
themselves suddenly overset in Chelsea Reach, 
and very narrowly escaped being drowned. The 
most innocent frolics of these men of humour 



are carried on in a literary way by advertise- 
ments in the newspapers, with which they often 
amuse the town ; and alarm us with bottle con- 
jurers, and persons who will jump down their 
own throats. Sometimes they divert them- 
selves by imposing on their acquaintance with 
fictitious intrigues, and putting the modest wo- 
men to the blush by describing them in the pub- 
lic papers. Once, I remember it was the frolic 
to call together all the wet nurses that wanted a 
place ; at another time, to summon several old 
women to bring their male tiibby cats, for 
which they were to expect a considerable price ; 
and not long ago, by the proffer of a curacy, they 
drew aU the poor parsons to St. Paul's coffiee- 
house, where the bucks themselves sat in another 
box, to smoke their rusty wigs and brown cas- 
socks. 

But the highest ft'olic that can possibly be put 
in execution, is a genteel murder ; such as run- 
ning a waiter through the body, knocking an old 
feeble watchman's brains out with his own staff, 
or taking away the life of some regular scoun- 
drel, who has not spirit enough to whore and 
drink like a gentleman. The noblest frolic of 
this kind I ever remember, happened a few 
years ago at a country town. While a party of 
bucks were making a riot at an inn, and tossing 
the chairs and tables and looking-glasses into the 
street, the landlady was indiscreet enough to 
come up stairs, and interi'upt their merriment 
with her impertinent remonsti'ances ; upon 
which, they immediately thi-ew her out of the 
window after her own furniture. News was 
soon brought of the poor woman's death, and 
the whole company looked upon it as a very droU 
accident, and gave orders that she should be 
charged in the bill. 

These wild pranks are instances of great spirit 
and invention : but, alas ! the generality of man- 
kind have no taste for humour. Few people care 
to have a sword in their ribs for the sake of the 
joke, or to be beat to mummy, or shot through 
the head, for the diversion of the good company. 
They sometimes imagine the jest is carried too 
far, and are apt to apply the words of the old 
fable, " it may be sport to you, but it is death to 
us." For these reasons, a set of these merry 
gentlemen are as terrible to the ordinary part of 
the world as a troop of banditti ; and an affair, 
which has been thought very high fun in I'all 
Mall or Covent Garden, has been treated irj 
a very serious manner at W^estminster Ilall 
or the Old Bailey. Our legislature has been 
absurd enough to be very careful of the lives 
of the lowest among the people ; and the coun- 
sel for a highwayman would sooner plead 
distress as an excuse for discharging his pistol, 
than mere wantonness and frolic. Nor do the 
governments abroad entertain a better opinion 
of this sort of humour ; for it is but a few years 
since, a gentleman on his travels, who was 



No. 35..] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



95 



completing a town education by the polite tour, 
shot a waitei- through the head, but the joke was 
so ill received, that the gentleman was hanged 
within four-and-twenty hours. It would be 
advisable, therefore, for these gentlemen, since 
the taste of the age is so incorrigible, to lay aside 
this high-seasoned humour. For their pistol, 
as it were, recoils upon themselves ; and since 
it may produce their own deaths, it would be 
more prudent not to draw their wit out of their 
scabbards. 

Our ladies of quality, who have at length 
adopted French manners with French fashions, 
and thrown off all starchness and reserve with 
the ruff and the fardingale, are very fond of a 
frolic. I have, indeed, lately observed with 
great pleasure, the commendable attempts of the 
other sex to shake off the shackles of custom ; 
and I make no doubt but a libertine lady will 
soon become a very common character. If their 
passion for gaming continues to increase in the 
same proportion that it has for some time past, 
we shall very soon meet with abundance of 
sharpers in petticoats ; and it will be mentioned, 
as a very familiar incident, that a party of female 
gamblers were seized by the constables at the 
gaming tiible. I am also informed, that it is 
grown very common among the ladies to toast 
pretty fellows : and that they often amuse them- 
selves with concerting schemes for an excellent 
frolic. A frolic is, indeed, the most convenient 
name in the world to veil an intrigue ; and it is 
a great pity that husbands and fathers should 
ever object to it. I can see no harm in a lady's 
going disguised to mob it in the gallery at the 
play-house ; and could not but smile at the 
pretty innocent wanton, who carried the joke so 
far as to accompany a strange gentleman to a 
bagnio ; but when she came there, was surprised 
to find that he was fond of a frolic as -well as 
herself, and offered her violence. But I parti- 
cularly admire the spirit of that lady, who had 
such true relish for a frolic, as to go with her 
gallant to the masquerade, though she knew he 
had no breeches under his domino. 

I most heartily congratulate the fine ladies 
and gentlemen of the age on the spirit with 
which they pursue their diversions ; and I look 
upon a bold frolic as the peculiar privilege of a 
person of fashion ; and ladies undoubtedly see a 
great deal of pleasantry in an intrigue, and 
mimic the dress and manners of the courtezans 
very happily and facetiously ; while the gentle- 
men, among many other new fancies, have made 
the old blunder of the Merry Andrew appear 
no longer ridiculous, and are mightily pleased 
with the comical humours of a murder. The 
frolics now in vogue will probably continue to 
be the amusements of the polite world for a 
long time ; but whencA'er the fashion is about to 
vary, I beg leave to propose the frolic recom- 
mended, if I remember right, to the Duke of 



Wharton, by JJr. Swift. *< When you are tired 
of your other frolics, I would have you take up 
the frolic of being good ; and my word for it, 
you will find it the most agreeable frolic you 
ever practised in your life." O. 



No. 55.] Thursday, Feb. 13, 1755. 



Nil obstat. Cois tibi pene videre est 

Ut nudam, ne crure malo, ne sit pede turpi : 
Meiiri possis oculo latus. HoR. 

The taper leg, slim waist, and lovely side. 
Nor stays nor envious petticoats shall hide ; 
But full in sight the tempting bosom swell, 
While bucks with wonder view the naked belle. 

There once prevailed among us a sect called 
the Adamites, whose doctrine, like that of our 
present Moravians, was calculated to comfort 
the flesh as well as the spirit; and many things, 
generally accounted indecent and immodest, 
were with them regarded as principles of reli- 
gion. The chief article maintained by this sect 
was, that it was proper, like our great forefather 
Adam, to go naked ; and the proselytes to this 
faith came abroad in the public streets in open 
day-light without any clothing. But this pri- 
mitive simplicity did not agree with the notions 
of those degenei-ate days ; and the Adamites 
were looked upon as an intolerable nuisance. 
Their religion, like all others, was soon attended 
with persecution : and some of the converts 
were dragged naked at the cart's tail, some set 
in the stocks, and others sent to Bridewell. 

Since that remarkable period the male part cf 
our species has been decently covered ; but the 
female world has made several bold attempts to 
throw off the incumbrance of clothes. Caps, 
handkerchiefs, tuckei's, and modesty-pieces, have 
been long discarded ; and the ladies have conti- 
nued every year to shed some other part of their 
dress as useless and unornamental. But these 
are only half assertions of the female rights and 
natural liberty in comparison to the project, 
which, it is thought, will be ripe for execution 
by summer. A set of ladies of the first fashion 
have agreed to found a sect of — EVITES— who 
are to appear in public with no other covering 
than the original fig-leaf. The primitive sim- 
plicity of appearance will be restored ; and 
though some may be censorious enough to 
imagine, that their confidence arises from very 
different principles, it may very justly be said of 
our ladies of quality, as of our first parents be- 
fore the fall, " They are naked, and are not 
ashamed." My country readers, and all those 
who live at a distance fi'om the polite world may 
perhaps look upon this scheme as merely fantas- 
tical and imaginary ; but nothing is more true. 
The inilllners are at this time all very busy in 



m 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 55. 



making up artificial fig-leaves, and adorning 
them according to the difterent fancies of the 
wearers. There is more taste displayed in con- 
triving an elegant fig-leaf, than has hitherto 
been exerted in forming a .genteel swordknot. 
Some have bunches of the gayest coloured ri- 
bands dangling loosely from the stalk, others 
tassels of gold and silver lace, and a few, design- 
ed for ladies of the highest distinction, bunches 
of diamonds. This and the pompon, which it 
is said has been lately Avorn merely as a type of 
a fig-leaf, will make up the common dress of the 
whole female world : but if ever the weather 
should be too severe for the ladies to appear (as 
Bayes expresses it) in jyuris naturalibus, they are 
to wear flesh-coloured' silks with pompons and 
fig-leaves as usual. 

There ai'e perhaps persons who, as they still 
retain some of the leaven of decency in their 
composition, will be startled at this project. I 
must own, however, that it does not appear to 
me to be in the least extraordinary or surpris- 
ing : for considering the present dress of our 
women of fashion, there remains no further step 
to be taken, except absolute nakedness. The 
stays and petticoat have been so xmmercifully 
pruned and cut away in order to discover latent 
beauties, that if those of the present mode were 
to fall into the hands of our distant posterity, 
they would conclude, that the present race of 
women must have been a generation of pigmies ; 
for they could never possibly conceive, that they 
were of common size, and wore by way of dress 
any garments so little calculated either for use or 
ornament. If one might judge by ajipearauces, 
the little modesty that is left in the polite world 
seems to be among the men ; and one is almost 
tempted to look for the rakes and persons of in- 
trigue in the other sex. I was pi'esent a few 
nights ago at the representation of the Chances ; 
and when I looked round the boxes, and observ- 
ed the loose dress of all the ladies, and the gi'eat 
relish with which they received the high-sea- 
soned jests in that comedy, I was almost appre- 
hensive, that the old stoi*^ of the outrage of the 
Romans on the Sabine women would be invert- 
ed, and that the ladies would rise up and commit 
a rape on the men. 

But notwithstanding all that may be said 
against this project for establishing nakedness, 
it is not without example. Among the Hotten- 
tots, a very wise and polite nation, the ladies .at 
this day go quite naked, except a loose mantle 
thrown over their shoulders, and a short apron 
before instead of a fig-leaf. It is also well 
known, that the Spartans allowed their unmar- 
ried women to wear a sort of loose robe, which 
at every motion discovei'ed their chamns through 
several openings contrived for that purpose. 
There ■would certainly be no harm in extending 
this liberty to the whole sex ; and I a'u not in 
the least inclined to listen to the malignant insi- | 



nuations, that when a maiTied woman endea- 
vours to look particularly tempting, it is not 
merely to please her husband, but to captivate a 
gallant. It may, perhaps, be further objected, 
that our northern climate is too cold to strip in : 
but this little inconvenience is amply compen- 
sated, by the security the ladies will create to 
themselves by taking such extraordinary liber- 
ties, and carrying matters so very far, that it 
will be indecent even to reprehend them. 

There is, however, a very large part of the 
sex, for whom I am greatly concerned on this 
occasion. I mean the old and the ugly. What- 
ever the belles may get by this fashion, these 
poor ladies will be great sufferers. Their faces 
are already more than is agreeable to be shown ; 
but if they expose sickly skins, furrowed and 
pursed up like a washerwoman's fingers, the 
sight will become too disgusting. During the 
present mode I have observed, that the display 
of a yellow neck or clumsy leg has created but 
few admirers : and it is reasonable to conclude, 
that when the new fashion begins to prevail 
universally, although our men of pleasure will 
be glad to see the young and beautiful ladies, 
whom they would desire to take into their arms, 
stripping as fast as possible, yet they are not so 
fond of primitive and original simplicity, as to 
be captivated by a lady, who has none of the 
charms of Eve, except her nakedness. 

Some persons of more than ordinary penetra- 
tion will be apt to look on this project in a politi- 
cal light, and consider it as a scheme to counter- 
work the marriage act. But as the chief ladies 
who concerted it are already provided with 
husbands, and are known to be very well affect- 
ed to the government, this does not appear pro- 
bable. It is more likely to be an artifice of the 
beauties to make their superiority incontestable, 
by drawing in the dowdies of the sex to suffer 
by such an injimous contrast. However this 
may be, it is very certain, that the most lovely 
of the sex are about to employ the whole artil- 
lery of their charms against us, and indeed seem 
resolved to shoot us flying. On this occasion it 
is to be hoped, that the practice of painting, 
which is now so very fashionable, will be en- 
tirely laid aside : for whoever incrusts herself in 
paint can never be allowed to be naked ; and it 
is surely more elegant for a lady to be covered 
even with silk and linen, than to be daubed, like 
an old wall, with plaster and rough-cast. 

After this account of the scheme of our mod- 
ish females now in agitation, which the reader 
may depend uipon as genuine, it only remains lo 
let him know how I came by my intelligence. 
The parliament of women, lately proposed, is 
now actually sitting. Upon their first meeting, 
after the preliminaries were adjusted, the whole 
house naturally resolved itself into a committee 
on -the aflfaii-s of dress. The fig-leaf bill, the 
purport of which is contained in this paper, was 



No. 56.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



97 



brought in bj' a noble Countess, and occasioned 
some very warm debates. Two ladies in par- 
ticular made several remarkable speeches on this 
occasion : but they were both imagined to speak, 
like our male patriots, more for their own pri- 
vate interest than for the good of the public. 
For one of these ladfes, who insisted very ear- 
nestly on the decency of some sort of covering, 
and has a very beautiful face, is shrewdly sus- 
pected not to be so much above all rivalry in the 
turn and proportion of her limbs : and the 
other, who was impatient to be undressed with 
all expedition, was thought to be too much in- 
fluenced by her known partiality to a favourite 
mole, which now lies out of sight. The bill, 
however, was passed by a considerable majority, 
and is intended to be put in force by Midsum^ 
mer day next ensuing. W. 



No. 56.] Thursday, Feb. 20, 1755. 



Necte tribus nodis terms, AmaryHi, colores : 
Necte, AmarylU, modo, et Veneris, die, vincida necto. 
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnin. 
Limus ut hie durescit, ct hcec ut cera liqucscii, 
Viio eodemque ignis sic nostra Daphnis amove. 

YlRClL. 

Three colours weave in three-fold knots, and cry, 
" In three-fold bond this true-love's knot f tie." 
As the same fire makes hard this cake of clay. 
In which this waxen image melts away. 
Thus, god of love, be my true shepherd's breast 
Soft to my flame, but hard to all the rest. 
Ye songs, spells, philters, amulets, and charms. 
Bring, quickly bring my Daphnis to my arms. 

The idle superstitions of the vulgar are no 
where so conspicuous as in the affairs of love. 
When a raw girl's brain is once turned with a 
sweetheart, she converts every trifling accident 
of her life into a good or bad omen, and makes 
every thing conspire to strengthen her in so 
pleasing a delusion. Virgil represents Dido, as 
soon as she has contracted her fatal passion for 
iEneas, as going to the priests to have her for- 
tune told. In like manner the lovesick girl 
runs to the cunning-man, or crosses the gipsy's 
hand w^ith her last sixpence, to know when she 
shall be man-ied, how many children she shall 
have, and whither she shall be happy with her 
husband. She also consults the cards, and finds 
out her lover in the Knave of Hearts. She 
learns how to interpret dreams, and every night 
furnishes her with meditation for the next day. 
If she happens to bring out any thing in con- 
versation which another person was about to 
say, she comforts herself that she shall be mar- 
ried first ; and if she tumbles as she is running 
up stairs, imagines she shall go to church with 
her sweetheart befofe the week is at an end. 



But if in the course of their amour she gives the 
dear man her hair wove in a ti'ue lover's knot, 
or breaks a crooked ninepence with him, she 
thinks herself assured of his inviolable fidelity. 

It would puzzle the most profound antiquary 
to discover, what eould give birth to the strange 
notions cherished by fond nj-mphs and swains. 
The god of love has moi'e superstitious votaries, 
and is ■worshipped with more unaccountable 
rites than any fabulous deity whatever. No- 
thing, indeed, is so whimsical as the imagina- 
tion of a person in love. The dying shepherd 
carves the name of his mistress on the trees, 
while the fond maid knits him a pair of garters 
with an amorous posy ; and both look on what 
they do as a kind of charm to secure the affec- 
tion of the other. A lover will rejoice to give 
his mistress a bracelet or a top-knot, and she 
perhaps will take pleasure in working him a 
pair of ruffles. These they will regard as the 
soft bonds of love ; but neither would on any 
account run the risk of cutting love by giving or 
I'eceiving such a present as a knife or a pair of 
scissoi's. But to wear the picture of the beloved 
object constantly near the heart, is universally 
accounted a most excellent and never-failing 
preservative of affection. 

Some few years ago there was publicly ad- 
vertised, among the other extraordinary medi- 
cines whose wonderful qualities are daily related 
in the last page of our newspapers, a most eifica- 
cious love-powder ; by which a despairing lover 
might create affection in the bosom of the most 
cruel mistress. Lovers have, indeed, always 
been fond of enchantment. Shakspeare has re- 
presented Othello as accused of winning his 
Desdemona by "conjuration and mighty ma- 
gic;" and Theocritus and Virgil have both in- 
troduced women into their pastorals, using 
charms and incantations to recover the affections 
of their s^veethearts. In a word, Talismans, 
Genii, Witches, Fairies, and all the instruments 
of magic and enchantment were first discovered 
by lovers, and employed in the business of love. 

But I never had a thorough insight into all 
this amorous sorcery till I received the fol- 
lowing letter, which was sent me from the 
country a day or two after Valentine's day ; 
and I make no doubt, but all true lovers most 
religiously performed the previous rites men- 
tioned by my correspondent. 

TO MR. TOWN. 
Dear Sir, Feb. 17, 1755. 

You must know I am in love with a very 
clever man, a Londoner ; and as I wanttoknow 
whether it is my fortune to have him, I have 
tried all the tricks I can hear of for that pur- 
pose. I have seen him several times in coffee 
grounds with a sword by his side ; and he was 
once at the bottom of a tea-cup in a coach and 
O 



98 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 57, 



six, with two footmen behind it. I got up last 
May morning, and went into the fiehla to hear 
the cuckoo ; and when I pulled off ray left shoe, 
I found a hair in it exactly the same colour with 
his. But I shall never forget what I did last 
Midsummer Eve. I and my two sisters tried 
the Dumb Cake together : you must know, two 
must make it, two bake it, two break it, and 
the third put it under each of their pillows (but 
you must not speak a word all the time) and 
then you will dream of the man you are to have. 
This we did ; and to be sure I did nothing all 
night but dream of Mr. Blossom. The same 
night, exactly at twelve o'clock, I sowed hemp- 
seed in our back yard, and said to myself, 
" Hemp-seed I sow. Hemp-seed I hoe, and he 
that is my true love come after me and mow." 
Will you believe me ? I looked back, and saw 
him behind me, as plain as eyes could see him. 
After that, I took a clean shift, and turned it, 
and hung it upon the back of a chair ; and very 
likely my swct^lieart w^ould have come and 
turned it right again (for I heard his step) but 
I was frightened, and could not help speaking? 
which broke the charm. I likewise stuck up 
two Midsummer-men, one for myself and one 
for him. Now if his had died awaj', we should 
never have come together : but I assure you his 
blowed and turned to mine. Our maid Betty 
tells me, that if I go backwards without speak- 
ing a word into the garden upon Midsummer 
Eve, and gather a rose, and keep it in a clean 
sheet of paj>er, without looking at it till Christ- 
mas-day, it will be as fresh as in June ; and if 
I then stick it in my bosom, he that is to be my 
husband will come and take it out. If I am 
not married before the time come about again, I 
will certainly do it; and only mind if Mr. 
Blossom is not the man. 

I have tried a great many other fancies, and 
they have all turned out right. Whenever I go 
to lie in a strange bed, I always tie my garter 
nine times round the bed-post, and knit nine 
knots in it, and say to myself, " This knot I 
knit, this knot I tie, to see my love as he goes 
by, in his apparel and array, as he walks in eve- 
ry day." I did so last holidays at my uncle's, 
and to be sure I saw Mr. Blossom draw my 
curtains, and tuck up my clothes at my bed's 
feet. Cousin Debby was married a little while 
ago, and she sent me a piece of Bride- Cake to 
put under my pillow ; and I had the sweetest 
dream — I thought we were going to be married 
together. I have, many is the time, taken great 
pains to pare an apple whole, and afterwards 
Hung the peel over my head ; and it always falls 
in the shape of the first letter of his surname or 
christian name. I am sure Mr. Blossom loves 
me, because I stuck two of the kernels upon my 
forehead, while I thought upon him and the 
lubberly squire my papa wants me to have : ]Mr. 



Blossom's kernel stuck on, but the other dropl 
off directly. 

Last Friday, Mr. Town, was Valentine's 
day; and I'll tell you what I did the night be- 
fore. I got five bay-leaves, and pinned four of 
them to the four corners of my pillow, and the 
fifth to the middle ; and then, if I dreamt of my 
sweetheart, Betty said we should be manned 
before the year was out. But to make it more 
sure, I boiled an egg hard, and took out the yolk, 
and filled it up with salt : and when I went to 
bed, eat it shell and all, without speaking or 
drinking after it, and this was to have the same 
effect with the bay-leaves. We also wrote our 
lovers' names upon bits of paper, and rolled 
them up in clay, and put them into water; and 
the first that rose up was to be our Valentine. 
Would you think it? Mi". Blossom was my 
man ; and I lay a-bed and shut my eyes all the 
morning, till he came to our house ; for I would 
not have seen another man before him for aU 
the world. 

Dear Mr. Town, if you know any other ways 
to try our fortune by, do put them in your pa- 
per. My mamma laughs at us, and says there 
is nothing in them ; but I am sure there is, for 
several misses at our boarding-school have tried 
them, and they have all happened true : and I 
am sure my own sister Hetty, who died just 
before Christmas, stood in the church-porch last 
Midsummer Eve to see all that were to die that 
year in our parish ; and she saw her own ap- 
parition. 

Your humble Servant, 

T. Arabella Whimsey. 



No. 57.] Thursday, Feb. 27, 1755. 



Dulce Sodalitium ! 

Now til is is Worshipful Society !- 



Martial. 



Shakspeare. 

There is no phrase in the whole vocabulary of 
modern conversation, which has a more vague 
signification than the words " Good Company." 
People of fashion modestly explain it to mean 
only themselves ; and, like the old Romans, look 
on all others as Barbarians. Thus a star or a 
riband, a title or a place, denotes good company ; 
and a man rises in the esteem of the polite circle 
according to his rank or his rent-roll. This 
way of reasoning is so well known and so ge- 
nerally adopted, that we are not surprised to 
hear polite persons complain, at their return 
from the play, that the house was very much 
crowded, but that there was no company : 
though, indeed, I could not help smiling at a 
lady's saying she preferred St. James's Church to 



No. 57.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



99 



St. Geoi'ge's, because the pews were commonly 
filled with better company. 

I propose at present to consider this compre- 
hensive term, only as it respects a society of 
friends, who meet in order to pass their time in 
an agreeable manner. To do this the more ef- 
fectually, I shall take a cursory view of the se- 
veral methods now in vogue, by which a set of 
acquaintance endeavoured to amuse each other. 
The reader will here meet with some very ex- 
traordinary inventions for this purpose ; and 
when he has fixed his choice, may try to intro- 
duce himself into that company he likes best. 

There is a gi'eat demand for wit and humour 
in some parts of this metropolis. Among many, 
he is reckoned the best company, w^ho can enli- 
ven his conversation with strokes of facetious- 
ness, and (in Shakspeare's words) " set the table 
in a roar." But as wit and humour do not al- 
ways fall to the share of those who aim at shin- 
ing in conversation, our jokers and witlings have 
wisely devised several mechanical ways of gain- 
ing that end. I knoAv one, who is thought a 
very facetious fellow by the club of which he is 
a member, because, every night, as soon as the 
clock strikes twelve, he begins to crow like a 
cock. Another is accounted a man of immense 
humour, for entertaining his friends with a bm*- 
lesque hornpipe ; and a third has the reputation 
of being excellent company by singing a song 
and at the same time playing the tune upon the 
table with his knuckles and elbows. Mimicry 
is in these societies an indispensable requisite in 
a good companion. Imitations of the actors and 
other well known characters are very much ad- 
mired ; to which they have given the appellation 
of taking off. But the mimic is by no means 
limited to an imitation of the human species ; for 
an exact representation of the brute creation will 
procure him infinite applause. Very many of 
these wits may be met with in different quarters 
of the town ; and it is but a week ago, since 1 
was invited to pass the evening with a society, 
which, after a display of their several talents, I 
found to consist of a dog, a cat, a monkey, an 
ass and a couple of dancing bears. 

I cannot help looking with some veneration on 
the wit exerted in societies of this sort, since it 
has the extraordinary quality of never creating 
either disgust or satiety. They assemble every 
night, tell the same stories, repeat the same jokes, 
sing the same songs ; and they are every night 
attended with the same applause and merriment. 
Considering how much their wit is used, it is 
surprising that it should not be worn out. Some- 
times, however, one of the society makes a new 
acquisition, which is immediately thrown into 
the common stock of humour, and constantly 
displayed as part of the entertainment of the 
evening. A gentleman of this cast lately showed 
me with gi-eat joy the postscript of a letter, in 
which his correspondent promised him huge fun 



the next time he should see him, for he had got 
two new stories, and three or four excellent 
songs fi'om one of the actors. 

These are certainly very agreeable methods of 
passing the evening, and must please all persons, 
who have any relish for wit and humour. But 
these powers of entertaining are not every where 
the standard of good company. There are places 
in which he is the best company, who drinks 
most. A boon companion lays it down as a rule, 
that " talking spoils conversation." A bumper 
is his argument ; and his first care is to promote 
a brisk circulation of the bottle. He shows his 
esteem for an absent friend by toasting him in a 
bumper extraordinary ; and is frequently so good 
and loyal a subject, as to drink his majesty's 
health in half-pints. If he is desired to sing a 
catch, he still keeps the main point in view, and 
gives a song wrote in so ingenious a style, that 
it obliges the company to toss off a glass at the 
end of every stanza. If he talks, it is of " healths 
five fathom deep," or a late hard bout with ano- 
ther set of jolly fellows ; and he takes care, by a 
quick round of toasts, to supply the want of 
other conversation. 

I have ever thought the invention of toasts 
very useful and ingenioxis. They at once pro- 
mote hard drinking, and serve as a kind of me- 
morial of every glass that has been drank : they 
also furnish those with conversation, ^vho have 
nothing to say; or at least, by banishing all 
other topics, put the whole company on a level. 
Besides all this, three or four rounds of toasts, 
where many are met together, must unavoidably 
lift them all into good company. These are no 
small advantages to society : not to mention the 
wit and morality contained in many toasts. 

Toasts are doubtless very useful and entertain- 
ing ; but the wisest institution ever made in 
drinking societies, is the custom of appointing 
what is called an absolute toast master. The 
gentleman inv^ested with this dignity is created 
king of the company ; and, like other absolute 
monarchs, he commonly makes great use of his 
power. It is particularly his office to name the 
toast, to observe that every man duly tosses off 
his bumper, and is in every respect good com- 
pany. He is also to coiTect all misdemeanors, 
and commonly punishes an offender by sconcing 
him a bumper ■. that is, in the language of hard 
drinkei's, not unmercifully denying him his due 
glass ,but obliging him to add another to it of 
perhaps double the quantity. For offences of 
a very heinous nature, the transgressor is offered 
a decanter of water, or a tankai-d of small beer. 
The privilege of inflicting a bumper is exerted 
almost every moment ; for there is hardly any 
sort of behaviour, which does not produce this 
punishment. I have known a man sconced for 
drinking, for not drinking, for singing, for talk- 
ing, for being silent, and at length sconced dead 
drunk, and made very good company. 



100 



But none of these qualifications above-men- 
tioned constitute good company in the genteel 
part of the world. Polite assemblies neither 
aim at wit and humour, nor make the least pre- 
tence to cultivate society. Their whole evenings 
are consumed at the card-table, without the 
least attempt at any other conversation, but the 
usual altercations of partners between the deals. 
Whist has destroyed conversation, spoiled socie- 
ty, and " murdered sleep." This kind of good 
company is as ridiculous, and more insipid, than 
either the society of witlings or hard drinkers. 
Tossing off bumpers is as rational, and an em- 
ployment infinitely more joyous, than shuffling a 
pack of cards a whole night: and puns, jokes, 
and mimicry, however stale and repeated, fur- 
nish the company with conversation of as much 
use and variety, as the odd trick and four by 
honoui's. 

Such are the agreeable evenings passed at 
White's, and the other coffee-houses about St. 
James's. Such is the happiness of assemblies, 
routs, drums, and hurricanes ; and without 
gaming, what insipid things are even masque- 
rades and ridottos ! At such meetings the man 
who is good company, plays the game very well, 
knows more cases than are in Hoyle, and often 
possesses some particular qualifications, which 
would be no great recommendation to him any 
where else. Instead of meeting together, like 
other companies, with a desire of mutual de- 
light, they sit down with a design upon the 
pockets of each other ; though, indeed, it is no 
Avonder, when one has stripped another of two 
or three thousand pounds, if the successful 
gamester thinks the person he has fleeced very 
good company. 

By what has been said, it appears that the 
notion of good company excludes all useful con- 
versation : which, in either of the above-men- 
tioned societies, would undoubtedly be despised 
as stupid and pedantic. The witlings have too 
lively a genius, and too warm an imagination, 
to admit it. The boon companions can join no- 
thing but love to a bottle : and among game- 
sters, it would, like sleep, be mere loss of time, 
and hinderance of business. Yet an accom- 
plished member of either of these societies is 
called good company : which is just as proper 
an expression, as, according to Serjeant Kite, 
Carolus is good Latin for Queen Anne, or a 
stout beating. But a set of people, who assem- 
ble for no other purpose than to game, have, in 
particular, so very bad a title to the denomina- 
tion of good company, that they appear to me 
to be the very worst. O. 



THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 58 

No. 58.] Thursday, March 6, 1755. 



Quicunqtie hnpudicus, adulter, ganeo, quique alienum eei 
grandc conflavcrat, quo Jlagitium aut /acinus rediTneret ; 
pra-tcrca, omnes, uiid/que parricidx, sacrilegi, convict i 
judiciiSyaiU pro factis judicium timentes : ad hoc, quis 
manus atque lingua perjurio et sanguine civili alebat ; 
postremb, omnes, quos Jlagitium, egestas, consents animus 
exagitabat. Sallu.st. 

Would you, like Catiline's, an armj' choose, 
Go ransack White's, the tavenis, and the stews ; 
Press every buck and blood renown 'd for drinking. 
For wenching, gambling, fighting, and free-thiuking. 

A MISFORTUNE, which happened to me the other 
day, sufficiently convinced me of the inconve- 
niences arising from the indiscriminate power 
lodged in our press-gangs ; who pay no more 
regard to those, who plead protection from the 
badge of literature, than a bailiff's follower. I 
would not have the reader think, that 1 was 
pressed myself: — but my Devil (that is, the 
messenger of the printing house) was carried off, 
as he was going with the copy of a Connoisseur 
to press. Learning appears to me to be of so 
much importance, that (in my opinion) the per- 
sons of the lowest retainers to it, should be 
sacred from molestation : and it gives me con- 
cern, though a very loyal subject, that even a 
ballad-singer, or the hawker of bloody news, 
should be interrupted in their litei^ary vocations. 
I have in vain endeavoured to recover my ma- 
nuscript again : for, though I cannot but think 
any one of my papers of almost as much conse- 
quence to the nation as the fitting out a fleet, 
the ignorant sailoi's were so I'egardless of its in- 
estimable contents, that after much inquiry I 
detected them (with my Devil in conjunction) 
lighting their pipes with it, at a low alehouse by 
Puddle- Dock. 

This irretrievable loss to the public, as well as 
myself, led me to consider, whether some othor 
method might not be thought of, to raise suffi- 
cient forces for the fleet and army, without dis- 
turbing poor labourers and honest mechanics in 
their peaceful occupations. I have at length, 
with great pains and expense of thought, hit 
upon a scheme, which will effectually answer 
that end : and without further preface shall lay 
it before the public. 

I would propose, that every useless member 
of the community should be made of service to 
his country, by being obliged to climb the ropis 
or carry a musket; and every detrimental one 
should be prevented from injuring his fellow- 
subjects, and sent to annoy the common enemy. 
To begin with the coimtry. There is no occa- 
sion to rob the fields of their husbandmen, or 
fetch our soldiers, as the Romans took their dic- 
tator, from the plo\igh. It is well known, that 
every county can supply us with nmnerous re- 



No. 58.^ 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



101 



criiits, if we were to raise them out of that idle 
body called country Squires : many of Avhom 
are born only for the destruction of game, and 
disturbance of their neighbours. They are mere 
vegetables, which gi'ow up and rot on the same 
spot of ground : except a few perhaps, wbo are 
transplanted into the Parliament House. Their 
whole life is hurried away in scampering after 
foxes, leaping five-bar gates, trampling upon the 
farmers' corn, and swilling October. As they 
are by their profession excellent marksmen, and 
have been used to carry a gun, they might em- 
ploy their powder to moi'e purpose in fetching 
down a Frenchman than a pheasant : and most 
of them might be incorporated among the 
cavalry, or formed into light-bodied troops and 
mounted on their own hunters. They might 
also be of great use in marauding, or getting in 
forage ; and if they would follow an enemy with 
the same alacrity and defiance of danger, as they 
follow a fox, they might do prodigious execution 
in a pursuit. The greatest danger would be, 
that if a fox should perchance cross them in 
their march, they would be tempted to run from 
their colours for the sake of a chase ; and we 
should have them all desert, or (in the language 
of fox himters) gone away. 

If the country is infested with these useless 
and obnoxious animals, called Squii'es, this me- 
tropolis is no less overrun with a set of idle and 
mischievous creatures, w^hich we may call town 
Squires. We might soon levy a very numerous 
army, were we to enlist into it every A^agrant 
about town, who, not having any lawful calling 
from thence takes upon himself the title of 
gentleman, and adds an Esq. to his name. A 
very large corps too might be formed from the 
Students at the Inns of Court, who, under the 
pretence of following the law, receive as it were 
a sanction for doing nothing at all. With these 
the several tribes of play-house and coffee-house 
Critics, and that collective body of them called 
the Town, may be allowed to rank : and though 
no gi'eat exploits can be expected from these in- 
valids, yet (as they are of no other use what- 
ever) they may at least serve in the anny, like 
FalstafTs nien as " food for povrder." 

But a very formidable ti'oop might be com- 
posed of that part of them, distinguished by the 
name of Bloods. The fuiy of their assaults on 
di'awers and watchmen, and the spirit displayed 
in storming a bagnio, would be of infinite ser- 
vice in the field of battle. But I would recom- 
mend it to the general to have them strictly 
disciplined ; lest they should shoot some of their 
own comrades, or perhaps run away, merely for 
the sake of the joke. Under proper regulations 
such valiant gentlemen would certainly be of 
use. I had lately some thoughts of recommend- 
ing to the justices to list the bloods among those 
brave, resolute fellows employed as thief-takers. 
But they may now serve nobler purposes in the 



army : and what may we not expect from such 
intrepid heroes, who, for w^ant of opportunity 
to exert their prowess in warlike skirmishes 
abroad, have been obliged to give vent to their 
courage by breaking the peace at home ? 

Every one will agree Tvith me, that those men 
of honour, w^ho make fighting their business, 
and cannot let their swords rest quietly in their 
scabbards, should be obliged to draw them^ in the 
service of his Majesty, ^\^lat might we not 
expect from these furious Drawcansirs, if, in- 
stead of cutting one another's thi-oats, their skill 
in arms was properly tiuned against the enemy ! 
A very little discipline would make them ad- 
mirable soldiers : for (as Mercutio says) they 
are already " the very butchers of a silk button." 
I hav6 known one of these dueUists, to keep his 
hand in, employ himself every morning in 
thrusting at a brt of paper stuck against the 
wainscot ; and I have heard another boast, that 
he could snuff a candle with his pistol. These 
gentlemen are, therefore, very fit to be employed 
in close engagements : but it will be necessary 
to keep them in continual action ; for otherwise 
they would breed a kind of a civil war among 
themselves, and rather than not fight at all, tmn 
their weapons upon one another. 

Several Irish brigades, not inferior to those of 
the same country in the service of the French 
king, may be formed out of those able-bodied 
men, which are called fortune-himters. The 
attacks of the dauntless hei-oes have, indeed, 
been chiefly levelled at the other sex : but em- 
plojTnent may be found for these amorous 
knight-errants, suitable to their knoAvn firmness 
and intrepidity ; particularly in takilig places 
by storm, where there is a necessity for ravish- 
ing virgins and committing outrages upon the 
women. 

But among the many useless members of 
society, there are none so unprofitable as the 
fraternity of gamesters. I therefore think, that 
their time would be much better employed in 
handling a musket, than in shuffling a pack of 
cards, or shaking the dice box. As to the sharp- 
ers, it is a pity that the same dexterity which 
enables them to palm an ace or cog a die, is not 
used by them in going through the manual exer- 
cise in the military way. These latter might, 
indeed, be employed as marines, or stationed in 
the West Indies ; as many of them have ah-eady 
crossed the seas, and are perfectly well acquaint- 
ed with the plantations. 

The last proposal which I have to make on 
this subject, is to take the whole body of Free- 
thinkers into the service. For this purpose I 
would impress all the members of the Robin 
Hood Society ; and, in consideration of his great 
merit I would further advise, that the Clare- 
Market Orator should be made Chaplain to the 
reo^iraent. One of the favourite tenets of a Free- 
thinker is, that all men are in a natural state of 



102 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 59. 



warfare with each other : nothing, therefore, is 
so proper for him, as to be actually engaged in 
war. As he has no squeamish notions about 
what will become of him hereafter, he can have 
no fears about death ; I would, therefore, always 
have the Freethinkers put ujion the most dan- 
gerous exploits, exposed to the greatest heat of 
battle, and sent upon the forlorn hope. For 
since they confess that they are born into the 
world for no end whatever, and that they shall 
be nothing after death, it is but justice that they 
should be annihilated for the good of their 
country. \V. 



No. 59.] Thursday, March 13, 1755. 



■ Monstra evenerunt mihi ! 
Intro at in jEdes ater alienas canis! 
Anguisper impluvium decidit de tegulisi 
Gallina cecinit ! 



Ter. 



What unlucky prodigies have befallen us! A strange 
black dog came into the house ! A snake fell from the 
tiles through the sky-light ! A hen crowed ! 

MR, VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 

Dear Cousin, March S, 1755. 

I WAS greatly entertained with your late reflec- 
tions on the several branches of magic employed 
in the affairs of love. I have myself been very 
lately among the seers of visions and dreamers of 
dreams ; and hope you will not be displeased at 
an account of portents and prognostics full as ex- 
travagant, though they are not all owing to the 
same cause, as those of your correspondent Miss 
Arabella Whimsey. You must know. Cousin, 
that I am just returned from a visit of a fort- 
night to an old aunt in the North, where I was 
mightily diverted with the traditional supersti- 
tions which are most religiously preserved in the 
family, as they have been delivered down (time 
out of mind) from their sagacious grandmothers. 

When I arrived, I found the mistress of the 
^jouse very busily employed with her two daugh- 
ters in nailing a horse-shoe to the threshold of 
the door. This, they told me, was to guard 
against the spiteful designs of an old woman, who 
was a witch, and had threatened to do the family 
a mischief, because one of my young cousins laid 
two straws across, to see if the old hag could 
walk over them. The young lady herself assur- 
ed me, that she had several times heard Goody 
Cripple muttering to herself; and to be sure she 
was saying the Lord's prayer backwards. Be- 
sides the old woman had very often asked them 
for a pin : but they took care never to give her 
any thing that was sharp, because she should 
not bewitch theni. They afterwards told me 
many other particulars of this kind, the same as 
are mentioned with infinite humour by the 
Spectator ; and to confirm them, they assured 



me, that the eldest miss, when she was little, 
used to have fits, till the mother flung a knife at 
another old witcli (whom the devil had car- 
ried otf in a high wind) and fetched blood from 
her. 

When I was to go to bed, my aunt made a 
thousand apologies for not putting me in the best 
room in the house ; which (she said) had never 
been lain in, since the death of an old wa.sher- 
woman, who walked every night, and haunted 
that room in particulai*. They fancied that the 
old woman had hid money somewhere, and 
could not rest till she had told somebody; 
and my cousin assured me, that she might have 
had it all to herself; for the spirit came one 
night to her bed-side, and wanted to tell her, 
but she had not courage to speak to it. I learned 
also, that they had a footman once, who hanged 
himself for love : and he walked for a gi-eat 
while, till they got the parson to lay him in the 
Red Sea. 

I had not been here long, when an accident 
happened, which very much alarmed the whole 
family. Towzer one night howled most terri- 
bly ; which was a sure sign, that somebody be- 
longing to them would die. The youngest Miss 
declared, that she had heard the hen crow that 
morning ; which was another fatal prognostic. 
They told me, that just before uncle died, Tow- 
zer howled so for several nights together, that 
they could not quiet him : and my aunt heard 
the death-watch tick as plainly, as if there had 
been a clock in the room : the maid too, who 
sat up with him, heard a bell toll at the top of 
the stairs, the very moment the breath went out 
of his body. During this discourse, I overheai'd 
one of my cousins whisper the other, that she 
was afraid their mother would not live long ; 
for she smelt an ugly smell like a dead carcass. 
They had a dairy maid, who died the very week 
after a hearse had stopped at their door on its 
way to church : and the eldest Miss, when she 
was but thirteen, saw her own brother's ghost, 
(who was gone to the West Indies,) walking in 
the garden ; and to be sure, nine months after, 
thev had an account, that he died on board the 
ship, the very same day, and hour of the day, 
that Miss saw his apparition. 

1 need not mention to you the common inci- 
dents which were accounted by them no less 
prophetic. If a cinder popped from the fire, 
they were in haste to examine whether it was a 
purse or a coffin. They were aware of my 
coming long before I arrived, because they had 
seen a stranger on the grate. The youngest M iss 
will let nobody use the poker but herself; be- 
cause, when she stirs the rire, it always burns 
bright, which is a sign she will have a bright 
husband ; and she is no less sure of a good one, 
because she generally has ill luck at cards. Nor 
is the candle less oracular than the fire: for the 
squire of the parish cumc one night to pay them 



No. 60.:] 

a visit, when the tallow winding-sheet pointed 
towards him ; and he broke his neck soon after 
in a fox chase. My aunt one night observed 
with great pleasure a letter in the candle; and 
she hoped it would be from her son in London. 
We knew when a spirit was in the room by the 
candle burning blue: but poor cousin Nancy 
was ready to cry one time, when she snuffed it 
out, and could not blow it in again, though her 
sister did it at a whiff, and consequently tri- 
umphed in her superior virtue. 

We had no occasion for an almanack or the 
weatlier-glass, to let us know whether it would 
rain or shine. One evening I proposed to ride 
out with my cousins the next day to see a gen- 
tleman's house in the neighbourhood ; hut my 
aunt assured us it would be wet, she knew very 
well from the shooting of her corn. Besides, 
there was a gi'eat spider crawling up the chim- 
ney, and the blackbird in the kitchen began to 
sing ; which were both of them as certain fore- 
runners of rain. But the most to be depended 
on in these cases is a tabby cat, which usually 
lies basking on the parlour hearth. If the cat 
turned her tail to the fire, we were to have a 
hard frost : if the cat licked her tail, rain would 
certainly ensue. They wondered what sti-an- 
ger they should see ; because puss washed her 
foot over her left ear. The old lady complained 
of a cold, and her daughter remarked, it would 
go through the family ; for she observed, that 
poor Tab had sneezed several times. Poor Tab, 
however, once flew at one of my cousins ; for 
which she had like to have been destroyed, as 
the whole family began to think that she was no 
other than a witch. 

It is impossible to tell you the several tokens, 
by which they know whether good or ill luck 
will happen to them. Spilling of salt, or laying 
knives across, are every where accounted ill 
omens; but a pin with the head turned towards 
you, or to be followed by a strange dog, I found 
were very lucky. I heard one of my cousins 
tell the cook maid, that she boiled away all 
her sweethearts, because she had let her dish- 
water boil over. The same young lady one 
morning came down to breakfast with her cap 
the wrong side out ; which her mother observ- 
ing, charged her not to alter it all the day, for 
fear she should turn luck. 

But above all, I could not help remarking the 
various prognostics, which the old lady and her 
daughters used to collect from almost every part 
of the body. A white speck upon the nails made 
them as sure of a gift, as if they had it already in 
their pockets. The eldest sister is to have one 
husband more than the youngest, because she has 
one wrinkle more in her forehead ; but the other 
will have the advantage of her in the number of 
children, as was plainly proved by snapping 
their finger joints. It would take up too much 
room to set down every circumstance, which I 



103 

observed of this sort during my stay with them : 
I shall therefore conclude my letter with the se- 
veral remarks on the other parts of the body, as 
far as I could learn them from this prophetic 
family : for as I was a relation, you know, they 
had less reserve. 

If the head itches, it is a sign of rain. If the 
head aches, it is a profitable pain. If you have 
the tooth-ache, you do not love true. If your eye- 
brow itches, you will see a stranger. If your 
right eye itches, you will cry ; if yom* left, you 
will laugh. If your nose itches, you will shake 
hands with, or kiss a fool, drink a glass of wine, 
run against a cuckold's door, or miss them all 
four. If your right ear or cheek burns, your 
left friends are talking of you ; if your left, your 
right friends are talking of you. If your elbow 
itches, you will change your bedfellow. If your 
right hand itches, j^ou will pay away money ; if 
your left, you will receive. If your stomach 
itches, you will eat pudding. If your back itches, 
butter wiU be cheap when grass grows there. If 
your side itches, somebody is wishing for you. 
If your gartering place itches, you will go to a 
strange place. If your knee itches, you will 
kneel in a strange church. If your foot itches, 
you will tread upon strange ground. Lastly, if 
you shiver, somebody is walking over your 
grave. 

I am, dear Cousin, 

T. *" Yours, &c. 



No. 60.] Thursday, March 20, 1755. 



Htsc ego mecum 



C&mp-essis agito labris, uM, quid datur oti. 
niudo CharUis. 

Let not a word escape the lips— but hist — 
And think in silence on the rules of whist. 



Hon. 



Whoever has had occasion often to pass through 
Holborn, must have taken notice of a pastiy- 
cook's shop with the following remarkable in- 
scription over the door ; Kidder's Pastry School. 
I had the curiosity to inquire into the design of 
this extraordinary academy, and found it was 
calculated to instruct young ladies in the art 
and mystery of tarts and cheesecakes. The 
scholars were, indeed, chiefly of the lower class, 
except a fewnotable young girls from the city, 
with two or three parson's daughters out of the 
country, intended for service. As housewifely 
accomplishments are now quite out of date 
among the polite world, it is no wonder that Mr. 
Kidder has no share in the education of our 
young ladies of quality : and I appeal to any 
woman of fashion, whether she would not as 
soon put her daughter 'prentice to a washer- 
woman, to learn to clear-starch and get up fine 
linen, as to send her to the pastry-school to be 



104 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. Co. 



instructed in raised crust and puiF paste. The 
good dames of old, indeed, were not ashamed to 
make these arts their study ; but in this refined 
age we might sooner expect to see a kitchen- 
wench thumbing Hoyle's Treatise on Whist, 
than a fine lady collecting receipts for making 
puddings, or poring over the Complete Art of 
Cookery. 

The education of females is at present happily 
elevated far above the ordinary employments of 
domestic economy : and if any school is wanted 
for the improvement of young ladies, I may 
venture to say, it should be a school for whist. 
Mr. Hoyle used, indeed, to wait on ladies of 
quality at their own houses to give them lectures 
on this science : but as that learned master has 
left off teaching, they can have no instructions 
but from his incomparable treatise ; and this, I 
am afraid, is so abstruse, and abounding with 
technical terms, that even those among the qua- 
lity, who are tolerably well grounded in the 
science, are scarce able to unravel the perplexity 
of his cases, which are many of them as intri- 
cate as the hardest proposition in Euclid. A 
school for whist would, therefore, be of excel- 
lent use ; where young ladies of quality might 
be gradually instructed in the various branches 
of lurching, renouncing, finessing, winning the 
ten-ace, and getting the odd trick, in the same 
manner as common misses are taught to write, 
read, and work at their needle. 

There seems to be a strange neglect in the 
education of females, that, though great pains 
are taken with them to make them talk French, 
they are yet so ignorant of the English language, 
that before they come to their teens they can 
scarce tell what is meant by lurching, revoking, 
fussing the cards, or the most common terms, 
now in use at all routs and assemblies. Hence 
it often happens, that a young lady is almost 
ripe for a gallant, and thoroughly versed in the 
arts of the toilet, before she is initiated into the 
mysteries of the card- table. I would therefore 
propose, that our demoiselles of fashion should 
be taught the art of card-playing from their 
cradles ; and liave a pack of cards put into their 
hands, at the usual time that the brats of vulgar 
people are employed, in thumbing their horn- 
book. The mind of man has been often com- 
pared (before it has received any ideas) to a 
white piece of paper, which is capable of retain- 
ing any impression afterwards made upon it. 
In like manner, I would consider the minds of 
those infants, which are born into a well-bred 
family, as a blank pack of cards, ready to be 
marked with the pips and colours of the suits : 
at least, I am confident that many of them, after 
they are gi'own up, have laid in very few ideas 
beyond them. What, therefore, IMr. Locke 
recommends, that we should chexit children into 
learning their letters, by making it seem a pas- 
time, should be put in practice in every polite 



nursery; and the little ladies may be taught to 
distinguish ace, deuce, tray, &c. as soon as they 
could great A, little a, and the other letters of 
tlie criss-cross row : as to the four honours, 
tliey will readily learn them by the same method 
that other children get the names of dogs, 
horses, &c. by looking at their pictures. After 
this, in order to complete her education, little 
Miss (when of a proper age) should be sent to 
the whist school, or have lessons from private 
masters at home. She may now be made to get 
by heart the laws of the game, read a chapter in 
Iloyle, and be catechised in laying and taking 
the odds ; and, in process of time, she may be 
set to solve any of Hoyle's hardest cases, or any 
of the propositions in his doctrine of chances ; 
for which (as Mr. Hoyle himself teUs us), no 
more knowledge of ai'ithmetic is required, than 
what is sufficient to reckon the tricks, or score 
up the game. 

All sciences appear equally abstruse to the 
learner at his first setting out : but I will ven- 
ture to say, that the science of whist is more 
complex than even algebra or the mathematics. 
The Ass's bridge in Euclid is not so difficult to 
be got over, nor the Logarithms of Napier so 
hard to be unravelled, as many of Hoyle's cases 
and propositions ; as an instance of which, take 

the following most obvious and easy one. A 

and B are partners against C and D. A and B 
have scored 3, and want to save their Lurch. C 
and D are at short can'ye : and consequently 
both sides play for two points. C has the deal, 
and turns up the Knave of Hearts. C asks his 
partner D, who refuses. B has the lead, and 
runs his strong suit. Spades, two rounds with 
Ace and King. A discards his weakest suit. 
Diamonds. Then B forces his pai'tner. A leads 
a strong Club, which B refuses. A forces B, 
wlio, by leading Spades, plays into A's hand, 
who returns a Club, and so they get to a Saw 
between them. After this A leads through C's 
Honoiu's. B finesses the Ten, and plays a 
Spade, which A trumps. Now B, by laying 
behind C's King and Knave of Trumps, makes 
the Ten-ace with Ace and Queen ; and A 
having the long Trump, brings in his thirteenth 
Club. Consequently A and B get a slam against 
their adversaries C and D, and score a single 
game towards the rubbers. 

Since, therefore, this science is attended with 
so much difficulty, the necessity of a school for 
Avhist is very evident : and if the plan of edu- 
cation, above pi'oposed, was put into execution, I 
will ventiu^ to pronounce, that yoiuig ladies, who 
can now scarce be ti'usted at any game beyond 
one-and-thirty Bone-Ace, or beat the Knave 
out of doors Avith the maid-servants, would be 
qualified, at twelve years old, to make one at 
any card-tjxble in town ; and would even beat 
their mammas, who have not had the same ad- 
vantage of education. Many a husband, and 



No. 61.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



105 



reany a parent, I am sure, have had reason to 
lament, that their wives and daughters have not 
had the happiness of so early an instruction in 
this branch of female knowledge : and I make 
no doubt, but several boarding-schools will be 
set up, where young ladies may be taught Whist, 
Brag, and all kinds of card-work. How many 
ladies, for want of such a school, are at present 
shut out from the best company, because they 
know no more of the game, than what is called 
White- Chapel play ! In order, therefore, to 
remedy this deficiency as far as possible, I would 
further recommend it to Mr. Hoyle, or some 
other eminent artist (in imitation of Messieurs 
Hart and Dukes, who profess to teach grown 
gentlemen to dance), to advertise that grown 
gentlewomen may be taught to play at whist in 
the most private and expeditious manner; so 
that any lady, who never before took a card in 
hand, may he enabled in a very short time to 
play a rubber at the most fashionable routs and 
assemblies. " W. 



No. 61.] Thursday, March 27, 1755. 



CcElum ipsum petimus stultitia. 

E'en Heaven we covet by preposterous rules, 
And form t' ourselves a paradise of fools. 



HoR. 



It is observed by the French, that a cat, a priest, 
and an old woman, are sufficient to constitute a 
I'eligious sect in England. So universally, it 
seems, are learning and genius diffused through 
this island, that the lowest plebeians are deep 
casuists in matters of faith as well as politics ; 
and so many and wonderful are the new lights 
continually breaking in among us, that we daily 
make fresh discoveries, and strike out unbeaten 
paths to future happiness. The above observa- 
tion of our neighbom's is, in truth, rather too 
full : for a priest is so far from necessary, that 
a new species of doctrine would be better re- 
ceived by our old women, and other well-dis- 
posed good people, from a layman. The most 
extraordinary tenets of religion are very suc- 
cessfully propagated under the sanction of the 
leathern apron instead of the cassock : every 
corner of the town has a barber, mason, bi-ick- 
layer, or some other handicraft teacher ; and 
there are almost as many sects in this metx'O- 
polis, as there are parish churches. 

As to old women, since the passions of fe- 
males are stronger in youth, and their minds 
weaker in age, than those of the other sex, their 
readiness in embracing any principles of reli- 
gion, pressed on them with particular eai-nest- 
ness and vehemence, is not very wonderful. 
They hope, by the most rigid demeanour in the 
decline of life, to make amends for that un- 



bounded loose given to their passions in theii 
younger years. The same violence, however, 
commonly accompanies them in religion, as 
formerly actuated them in their pleasures ; and 
their zeal entirely eats up their charity. They 
look with a malevolent kind of pity on all who 
are still employed in worldly undertakings, 
" carry prayer-books in their pockets," and 
piously damn all their relations and acquaint- 
ance with texts of Scripture. I know an old 
gentlewoman of this cast, who has formed her- 
self as a pattern of staid behaviour; and values 
herself for having given up at threescore the 
vanities of sixteen. She denounces heavy judg- 
ments on all frequenters of public diversions, 
and forebodes the worst consequences from every 
party of pleasure. I have known her foretell the 
ruin of her niece from a country dance : nay, 
she can perceive irregular desires flaming from 
a gay coloured top-knot, and has even descried 
adultery itself lurking beneath the thin veil of 
a worked apron, or beaming from a diamond 
girdle-buckle. 

But we might, perhaps, suffer a few good old 
ladies to go to heaven their own way, if these 
sects were not pernicious on many other ac- 
counts. Such strange doctrines are very apt to 
unsettle the minds of the common people, who 
often make an odd transition from infidelity to 
enthusiasm, and become bigots from arrant free- 
thinkers : their faith, however, it may be well 
imagined, is not a saving faith ; as they are 
worked up to an adoration of the Creator, from 
the same slavish principle that induces the In- 
dians to worship the Devil. It is amazing how 
strongly fear operates on these weak creatures, 
and how easily a canting, whining rascal can. 
mould them to his purpose. I have known 
many a rich tradesman wheedled and threatened 
out of his subsistence, and himself and unhappy 
family at last lectured into the work-house. 
Thus do these vile hypocrites turn a poor con- 
vert's head to save his soul ; and deprive him of 
all happiness in this world, under pretence of 
securing it to him eternally in the next. 

Nothing can do religion more injury than 
these solemn mockeries of it. Many of these sects 
consist almost entirely of battered prostitutes, 
and persons of the most infamous charactej*. 
Reformation is their chief pretence : where- 
fore, the more abandoned those are of whom they 
make proselytes, the more they pride themselves 
on their conversion. I remember a debauched 
young fellow, who pretended a sudden amend- 
ment of his principles, in order to repair his 
shattered fortune. He turned Methodist, and 
soon began to manifest a kind of spiritual fond- 
ness for a pious sister. He wooed her according 
to the directions of the rubric, sent her sermons 
instead of billet-doux, " gi-eeted her with a holy 
kiss," and obtained his mistress by appearing in 
every respect a thorough devotee. But, alas ! the 
P 



100 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. Gl. 



good gentleman could never be prevailed on to 
comply with religious ordinances, or appear any 
more at church or meeting, after the perform- 
ance of the marriage ceremony. The lowest of 
the vulgar also, for their peculiar ends, frequent- 
ly become sectaries. They avail themselves of a 
mock conversion to redeem their lost characters, 
and, like criminals at Rome, make the church a 
sanctuary for villany. By this artifice they re- 
commend themselves to the charity of the weak 
but well-meaning christians, and often insi- 
nuate themselves as servants into Methodist 
families. 

Le Sage, with his usual humour, represents 
Gil Bias as wonderfully charmed with the 
seeming sanctity of Ambrose de Lamela, when 
he took him into his service : and Gil Bias is 
even not offended at his remissness the very first 
night, when his new servant tells him, that it 
was owing to his attending his devotions. But 
it soon appears, that his sly valet had been em- 
ployed in concerting the robbery of his master. 
A due attention to religion is so rare a quality 
in all ranks of people, that I am far from 
blaming it in servants ; but Avhen I see their re- 
ligion showing itself in laziness, and observe 
them neglecting their common business, under 
the pretext of performing acts of supererogation, 
I am apt to question their sincerity, and to take 
every servant of that kind for a mere Saint Am- 
brose. An old Moravian aunt of mine, of whom 
I have formerly made worthy mention, would 
never have any servants, who did not belong to 
the society of the United brethren. But so little 
did the good lady's endeavours to preserve virtue 
and a spirit of devotion in her house succeed, 
that the generality of the men fell into evil cour- 
ses, and most of the pious sisterhood left the 
family Avith big bellies. 

I would not be thought ;.to deny my fellow- 
subjects full liberty of conscience, and all the 
benefits of the Toleration Act ; yet I cannot help 
regarding these weak, if not ill-meant divisions 
from the established chm-ch, as a dangerous kind 
of fi'ee-thinking : not so shocking, indeed, as the 
impious avowal of atheism and infidelity, but 
often attended with the same bad consequences. 
A religion founded on madness and enthusiasm, 
is almost as bad as no religion at all : and what 
is worse, the unhappy errors of particular sects 
expose the purest religion in the world to the 
scoiFs of unbelievers. Shallow witlings exercise 
their little talents for ridicule on matters of re- 
ligion, and fall into atheism and blasphemy in 
order to avoid bigotry and enthusiasm. The 
weakness of the sectaries strengthens them in 
their ridiculous notions, and produces many 
other evils, as will appear from the following 
short history. 

In the glorious reign of Queen Elizabeth there 
resided in these kingdoms a worthy lady called 
Religioii. She was remarkable for the sweet- 



ness of her temper ; which was cheerful with- 
out 'evity, and grave without moroseness. She 
was also particularly decent in her dress as well 
as behaviour, and preserved with uncommon 
mildness the strictest regtilarity in her family. 
Though she had a noble genius, and led a very 
sober life, yet in those days she kept the best 
company, was greatly admired by the Queen, 
and was even intimate with most of the maids 
of honour. What became of her and her family 
is not known ; but it is very cei'tain, that they 
have at present no connection with the polite 
world. Some affirm, that the line is extinct ; 
though I have indeed been told, that the late 
Bishop Berkeley and the present Bishops of 

■^ and are descended from the principal 

branches of it, and that some few of the 
family are resident on small livings in the coun- 
try. 

We are told by a certain fashionable author, 
that there were formerly two men in a mad- 
house at Paris, one of whom imagined himself 
the Father, and the other the Son. In like 
manner, no sooner did the good lady Religion 
disappear, but she was personated by a crazy old 
beldam called Superstition. But the cheat was 
instantly discovered ; for instead of the mild dis- 
cipline, with which her predecessor ruled her 
family, she governed entirely by severity, racks, 
wheels, gibbets, sword, fire, and faggot. Instead 
of cheerfulness she introduced gloom, was per- 
petually crossing herself with holy water, and, 
to avert the terrible judgments of which she was 
hourly in fear, she compiled a new almanack, in 
wliich she wonderfully multiplied the number 
of red letters. After a miserable life she died 
melancholy mad, but left a will behind her, in 
which she bequeathed a very considerable sum 
to build an hospital for religious lunatics ; 
which, I am informed, will speedily be built on 
the same ground, where the foundery, that 
celebrated Methodist meeting-house, now stands. 

Superstition left behind her a son called Athe- 
ism, begot on her by a Moravian teacher at one 
of their Love- Feasts. Atheism soon showed 
himself to be a most profligate abandoned fellow. 
He came very early upon town, and Avas a re- 
markable blood. Among his other frolics he 
turned author, and is said to have written in 
concert with Lord Bolingbroke. After having 
squandered a large fortune, he turned gamester, 
then pimp, and highwapnan ; in which last oc- 
cupation he was soon detected, taken, and thrown 
into Newgate. He behaved A-ery impudently 
in the condemned hole, abused the ordinary 
whenever that gentleman attended him, and en- 
couraged all his fellow- prisoners, in the Newgate 
phrase, to die hard. When he came to the 
gallows, instead of the psalm, he sung a bawdy 
catch, threw away the book, and bid Jack Ketch 
tuck him up like a gentleman. Many of Iiis 
relations were present at the execution, and 



No. 62.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



107 



shook their heads, repeating the words of Mat 
in the Beggar's Opera, " Poor fellow ! we ar« 
soiTy for you, but it is what we inast all come 
to." O. 



No. 62.] Thursday, April S, 1755. 



.Qualem Caefis vult esse saccrdos. 



Jvv. 



What female, though to Papal modes they run. 
Would brook the life and manners of a nun ? 

Having lately infoi-med my readers, that the 
Female Parliament is now sitting, I shall pro- 
ceed to lay before them the substance of a debate 
that happened in the Committee of Religion, 
and which was unexpectedly occasioned by a 
Motion that was made by Miss Graveairs. 
This Committee had long been looked upon as 
useless, but for form sake continued to meet, 
though it was adjourned immediately : but one 
day, there being more members present than 
usual, tlie Chair-woman was no sooner in tlie 
chair, than the lady above mentioned addressed 
her in tLe following speech. 

Madam, 

It is with no less surprise than concern, that 
1 reflect on the danger to which the greater part 
of my sex, either through ignorance or choice, 
are now exposed ; and I have the strongest rea- 
sons to believe that nothing but the vigorous and 
timely resolutions of this wise assembly can pre- 
vent them from changing their religion, and be- 
coming Roman Catholics. What subject can 
be more interesting and important to us, 
whether we consider ourselves as a Committee 
of Religion, a Parliament of Women, or an 
Assembly of Protestants ? Was such a design 
to be carried into execution, the free use of our 
tongues would be taken away ; Ave should never 
be suffered perhaps to speak to the other sex, 
but through grates and bars ; and this place of 
our assembly would be probably the abode of 
nuns and friars. But lest you should think me 
thus alarmed without reason, I shall now lay 
before you the gi-ounds of my complaint ; that, 
if it is not too late, we may prevent the evil, or, 
if it is, we may guai'd against it. 

My fears are grounded on those remarks, that 
have long been made on the di-ess of the sex. 
Constant as the men have styled us to the love 
of change, little have they imagined, that Po- 
pery was invariably the object, to which every 
innovation was designed to lead. So long ago 
as when, to the honour of our sex, a Queen was 
upon the thi'one, it was the fashion, as we may 
leai'n from Pope,* for the ladies to wear upon 

* Upon her breast a sparkling cross she wore. 

Rape OF Til F, Lock. 



their breasts a flaming cross. The same fashion 
has been transmitted to the present times. 
What, IMadam, is this but dowm-ight Popery ? 
Tn the catholic coimti'ies they are contented with 
erecting crucifixes in their roads and chm-ches ; 
but alas ! in this protestant kingdom crosses are 
alike to be seen in places saci'ed and profane, the 
court, the playhouse : and (pardon me ladies !) 
this venerable assembly itself is not without 
them. I am apt to suspect, this hetei-odox in- 
troduction of the cross into the female dress 
had a higher original than the days of Queen 
Anne, whose affection for the church Avas very 
well know^n. It seems rather to Iiave been im- 
ported among us, together Avith the Jesuits, by 
the popish consorts of the first or second 
Charles : or perhaps the ladies first Avorc it in 
complaisance to the English Pope Joan, Queen 
Mary. I'his much is certain, that at the same 
time our pious reformer Queen Elizabeth ex- 
pelled the cross from our altars, she effectually 
secured the necks of our ladies from this super- 
stition by the introduction of the Ruff. 

The next part of our dress that I shall men- 
tion Avhich saA'ours of popery, is the capuchin. 
This garment in truth has a near I'esemblauce 
to that of the friar, Avhose name it bears. Our 
grandmothers had already adopted the hood; 
their daughters by a gradual advance introduced 
the rest ; but far greater improvements Avere 
still in store for us. We all of us remember, for 
it is not above tu^ years ago, hoAV all colom's 
Avere neglected for that of piU'ple, In purple 
Ave glowed from the. hat to the shoe ; and in such 
request Avere the ribbons and silks of that favou- 
rite colom', that neither the miUiner, m.ercer, 
nor dyer himself could ansAver the demand. 
Who but must think, that this arose from Popish 
principles ? And though it may be urged, that 
the admired Fanny, Avho first inti'oduced it, is 
no uun, yet you may all remember that the 
Chuj'ch of Rome herself has been styled tlie 
Scailet, or, as some render it, the Purple Whore. 

But to proA'e indisputably our manifest 
approaches to Popery, let me now refer you to 
that fashionable black, Avhich, sony I am to see 
it, is Avore by the far greater part cA^en of this 
assembly, and which indeed is Avith great pro- 
priety styled the Cardinal. For Avere his holi- 
ness the Pope to be introduced among us, he 
Tvould almost fancy himself in his OAvn conclave; 
and Avere I not too Avell acquainted Avith my 
sisters' principles, I myself should be induced 
to think, that to those in such gi-aA'e attire no- 
thing but a cloister and a grate Avas AA^nnting. 
As to those of gayer colours, you need not to be 
told, that there are white and grey friars abroad, 
as Avell as black : and as the English are so re- 
markable for improving on their originals, we 
shall not be tl)en surprised at tlie variety of 
colours til at appear among us. 

It has been Avhispered too, that some of my 



108 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 63. 



Gisters have been so fond of the monkish auste- 
rities, as to have their heads shaved. This I do 
not aver of my own knowledge ; but if it is so, 
they still condescend to wear artificial locks ; 
though it would be not at all strange, if they 
also should soon be laid aside, as they are already 
prepared for it by leaving off their caps. 1 shall 
only desire you still further to reflect, how 
fashionable it is for the ladies to shine with 
borrowed faces ; and then I believe you will 
readily allow, that their votaries, the men, are 
in great danger also of being seduced to popery ; 
since do they not already, by the compliments 
they pay to a painted face, address an image and 
adore a picture ? 

What has now been said will induce you, I 
hope, to pay a proper regard to the following 
Resolutions, which I humbly move, may be 
agreed to by this Committee, and represented to 
the House. 

Resolved, 

That it is the opinion of this Committee, that 

in order to prevent the growth of popery, no 

garments shall for the future be imported of 

popish make, or distinguished by popish names. 

Resolved, 
That in order to enforce a due obedience, every 
one shall be obliged to practise the austerities of 
the sect they imitate ; so that, for example, the 
Cardinals shall be compelled to lead a single life, 
and the Capuchins to go bare-foot. 

Lastly, 
It is recommended that, as a further sanction 
to the bill proposed, every offender, who shall be 
deemed in<:orrigible, shall be banished from all 
routs, and transported to her country seat for 
seven winters. 

This motion was strongly seconded by Lady 
Mend'em, who urged in its support, that to her 
certain knowledge many of the sex very fre- 
quently assembled at one another's houses, and 
particularly on the Sabbath, where mass books 
were actually laid before them, and the warm- 
est adoration paid to some pictures or painted 
images, which, she was told, resembled some 
Kings and Queens that had been long canoniz- 
ed : and the offerings, that were constantly 
made at their shrines, would (she said) be found, 
on a moderate computation, to exceed those that 
were formerly made at the tomb of Thomas a 
13ecket. She added, that, after the catholic 
custom, they always fasted on those nights, or, 
if they supped at all, it was only on fish. 

The chief speaker on the other side of the 
question was Lady Smart, one of the represen- 
tatives for Grosvenor- Square, who, by the way, 
was strongly suspected of being a prejudiced 
person, her enemies not denying that she had 



charms, which could almost sanctify error it- 
self. Nobody, she said, could suspect the sei 
of inclining to popery, who observed the aver- 
sion they all discovered to a single life. The 
uses of the obnoxious garments were allowed to 
be many ; the names at least were innocent : 
and the cry against them she was sure, could 
only be raised by the old and the ugly ; since 
nothing could be so fantastic, as not to become 
a pretty woman. 

Her ladyship was joined by the beauties pre- 
sent ; but they being few, their objections were 
over-ruled, and the motion was carried. The 
next day, the house, on receiving the report, 
after some debate, agreed to the resolutions, and 
a bill was ordered to be prepared and brought in 
accordingly. Though, at the same time they 
were of opinion, nein. con. that if the Fig-leaf 
Bill took place, these restrictions would be quite 
needless. 



No. 63.] Thursday, Aprii. 10, 17o5. 



Et nati natorum, et qui nasceniur ab Ulis. 



ViRG. 



From a long line of grandams draws his blood. 

And counts his great great grandsires from the flood. 

TO MR. TOWN. 

Sir, ^ Cambridge, April 4. 

If you are a ti'ue sportsman, and have the 
honour of the turf at heart, you must have ob- 
served with the utmost concern a late account 
in the newspapers, that " White-nose died at 
Doncaster of a mortification in the foot." An 
article of this nature, and at such a time, must 
strike a damp on all gentlemen breeders ; and 
for my part I cannot help looking on the present 
races at Newmarket, as funeral games in honoui* 
of the memory of White-nose. The death of a 
stallion of such consequence is a public calamity 
to all knowing ones in the kingdom ; nor does 
such an accident bring with it the least consola- 
tion ; especially since it is not the fashion to pit 
the lives of horses, as well as men, against each 
other. 

Italian grey-hounds, Dutch lap-dogs, mon- 
keys, and maccaws, have been honoured with 
monuments and epitaphs; but a race-horse as 
much surpasses these insignificant animals, as 
White-nose was superior to a pack-horse ; and 
I cannot but think, that an obelisk (with a 
proper inscription drawn up by Messieurs He- 
ber and Pond) should be erected near DevUV 
Ditch or Choak-jade on Newmarket Heath, in 
honour to his memory. With what astonish- 
ment might we then read of his powerful deep 
rate, by which all the horses that run against 
him were no where? With what rapture should 



No. 63.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



105 



we then recount his rapid victories in the field, 
(more surprising than those of the Duke of 
Marlborough) by which he won Tewksbury, 
won Chipping- Norton, won Lincoln, won 
York, &c. ! But, above all, we should admire 
the noble blood which flowed in his veins, and 
with reverence contemplate the illustrious names 
of his great, great, great, great, grandsires and 
grandams. There is not the least flaw in the 
blood of ^Vhite-nose's family: and his epitaph 
.'might conclude, in imitation of that famous one 
on the Duke of Newcastle's monument, " that 
all the Sons were remarkable stallions, and all 
the Daughters excellent breeders." 

The pedigrees of our race-horses have been 
always preserved with as much care and exact- 
ness, as the Tree of Descent among the family 
of a Spanish grandee or Polish nobleman : nor 
does the Welshman derive greater honour from 
proving himself the fiftieth cousin to Cadwalla- 
dcr or Charactacus, through a long line of David 
Ap Shenkins, Ap Morgan, Ap Powels, Ap 
Prices, than the horse by being half-brother to 
the Godolphin Barb, or full cousin by the dam's 
side to the Bloody- Shoulder'd Arabian. The 
Romans were no less curious in the breed of 
their horses, and paid the greatest honours to 
those that beat the whole Cii'cus hollow. They 
even erected monuments to their memory, of 
which Lipsius gives us the following I'emarka- 
hle instance. Clarissime lapis veins, qxiem Romce 
olim vidi et exscripsi. In medio vir esc, qui dextra 
haculum sinistra jmlndum tenet: extrinsecus duo 
sitnt assilieyites eqiii cum gemina vtscripiione : — 
Aquilo, Nepos Aquilonis vicit cxxx. secundus 
tulit Ixxxviii. terlias iulit xxxvi. — Altera,— -Hir- 
pinus, Nepos Aquilonis vicit cxiv. secundus tulit 
Ivi. tertias tvlit xxxvi. Habes itaque ipsmn hie 
Hii-pinium, atque adeo ejus Avum Aquilonem. 
I could wish that the same honours were paid 
to our horses: I would at least propose, that 
the names, pedigrees, and a list of the plates w^on 
by victorious horses, should be inscribed on the 
posts of all courses, where they have made them- 
selves famous. These memorials might serve 
to perpetuate the renown of our racers, and 
would furnish posterity with a more complete 
history of the Turf than the Sportsman's Ca- 
lendar. 

You will undoubtedly observe, Mr. Town, 
that in the extract concerning horses, with 
which I have just presented you from Lipsius, 
a man is also mentioned ; the account of w^hom 
would, if modernized, run in the following 
terms. " In the middle of the monument stood 
a man, with a whip in his right hand, and a 
feed of corn in his left." Hence it appears, that 
the Romans intended to do honour to the cha- 
rioteer as well as horses ; and it is a pity, that 
we do not also imitate them in this particular, 
and pay equal respect to our Jockeys. The 
chariot-race weis not more celebrated among the 



ancients, than the horse-race is at present ; and 
the Circus at Rome never drew together so noble 
an assembly as the modera course. Nor do I 
see any reason, why Thei'on should be more ap- 
plauded for carrying off the prize at Elis or Pisu, 
than Tom Marshal for winning the plate at 
York or Newmarket. The charioteers of old 
were, indeed, composed of the greatest princes 
and persons of the first rank, who prided them- 
selves on their dexterity in managing the reins, 
and driving their own chariots. In this they 
have been imitated by several of our modern 
gentry ; who value themselves on being excellent 
coachmen ; and it is with infinite pleasure, that 
I have lately observed persons of fashion at all 
races affect the dress and manner of grooms. 
And as gentlemen, like the ancient charioteers, 
begin to enter the race them.selves, and ride 
their own horses, it is probable, that we shall 
soon see the best Jockeys among the first of our 
nobility. 

That the encomiums of the horse shall so fre- 
quently be enlarged on, without entering into 
the praises of the Jockey, is indeed something 
Avenderful ; when we consider how much the 
beast is under his direction, and that the strength 
and fleetness of Victorious or Driver would be 
of no use v/ithout the skill and honesty of the 
rider. Large sums have been lost by a horse 
running, accidentally without doubt, on the 
wrong side of the post ; and we knowing-ones, 
Mr, Town, have frequently seen great dexterity 
and management exerted, in contriving that one 
of the best hoi^ses in the field should be distanced. 
The Jockej' has, indeed, so great a share in the 
success of the race, that everj' man, who has 
ever betted five pounds, is acquainted with his 
consequence; and does not want to be told, that 
the victoi'y depends at least as often on the luder 
as the horse. 

I cannot help agreeing with Lady Pentweazle 
in the farce, that, " if there was as much care 
taken in the breed of the human species, as there 
is in that of dogs and of horses, we should not 
have so many puny half-formed animals as Ave 
daily see among us :" and every thorough sports- 
man very well knows, that as much art is requir- 
ed to bring up a Jockey, as the beast he is to ride. 
In every respect the same care must be had to 
keep him in wind, and he must be in like man- 
ner dieted, put in sweats, and exercised, to 
bring him down to a proper weight. Bluch 
depends upon the size of the man as well as 
horse : for a rider of the same dimensions with 
a grenadier would no more be fit to come upon 
the tiu"f as a Jockey, than an awkward thing 
taken out of the shafts of a dray could ever 
appear at the starting-post as a race-horse. — 
This is obvious to every one ; and I could not 
help smiling at what my landlord at the White 
Bear said the other day to a little fellow-com- 
moner of St. John's, (who would fain be thought 



110 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 64. 



a knowing-one) by way of compliment ; " My 
worthy master," said the landloi-d, " it is a 
thousand pities you should be a gownsman, 
when you would have made such a special post- 
boy or Jockey." 

My chief inducement to write to you at pre- 
sent, Mr. Town, was to desire you to use your 
endeavours to bring the Jockey into equal esteem 
with the animal he bestrides : and to beg, that 
you would promote the settling an established 
scheme for the preservation of his breed. In 
order to this I would humbly propose, that a 
stud for the Jockeys should be immediately built 
near the stables at Newmarket : and that their 
genealogies should be duly registered ; that the 
breed should be crossed as occasion might rtquire, 
and that the best horsemen, and of the lightest 
weights, should intermarry with the full sisters 
of those who had won most plates : and in a 
word, the same method used for the improve- 
ment of the Jockeys as their horses. I have here 
SftOt you an exact pedigree of a famous Jockey, 
taken with all that care just now prescribed; 
and I doubt not, if my scheme was universally 
put in execution, but we should excel all other 
nations in our horsemen, as we ah'eady do in our 
horses. 

TO RIDE THIS SKA SON, 

An able Jockey, fit to start for Match, Sweep- 
stakes, or King's Plate ; Avell sized ; can mount 
twelve stone, or strip to a feather ; is sound wind 
and limb, and free from blemishes. He was got 
by Yorkshire Tom, out of a full sister to Dept- 
ford Nan. His dam was got by the noted IMat- 
chim Tims. His Grandam was the Gennan 
Princess ; and his great Grandam was daughter 
to Flanders Moll. His Sire won the king's 
Plate at York and Hambleton, the Lady's Sub- 
scription purse at Nottingham, the Give-and- 
Take at Lincoln, and the Sweepstakes at New- 
market. His Grandsire beat Dick Rogers at 
Epsom and Burford, and Patrick M'Cuutt'em 
over the Cm-ragh at Kildare. His great Grand- 
sire, and gi'eat gi*eat Grandsire rode for King 
Charles the Second ; and so noble is the blood 
which flows in this Jockey's veins, that none of 
his family were ever distanced, stood above five 
feet five, or weighed more then twelve stone. 

W. 



No. 64..] Thursday, Ai-ril 17, 17o5. 



Canes legates misere, 

Ut sese eripercnt hmninum contumcUis. Pnr.Dn. 

Hounds, pointers, mastiffs, lap-dogs sue for Iicl)), 
With many a doleful howl, and piteous yelp. 

Rktu r king the other n ight from the cofFee-liouso, 



where I had just been reading the* votes, I 
found myself on a sudden oppressed with drow- 
siness, that seemed to promise me as sound a re- 
pose in my great chair, as my dog already enjoyed 
by the fire-side. I willingly indulged it ; and 
had hardly closed my eyes, before I fell into the 
following dream. 

Methought the door of my room on a sudden 
flew open, and admitted a great variety of dogs 
of all sorts and sizes, from the mastiff to the lap- 
dog. I was surprised at this appearance ; but 
my amazement was much increased, when I saw 
a large grey-hound advancing towards me, and 
hear<l him thus address me in a human voice. 

Yon cannot. Sir, be ignorant of the panic that 
prevails among all our species, on account of a 
scheme now on foot for our destruction. That 
slaughter, which was formerly made among the 
wolves of this land, and in which our ancestors 
bore so large a share, is now going to be revived 
among us. I, for my own part, have no hopes of 
escaping, as you will easily judge when you hear 
my case. IMy master owes his subsistence to bis 
labour, and with his wages can just maintain 
me and his three children. In return, 1 now 
and then aff'ord him a comfortable meal, by kill- 
ing him a rabbit in the squire's warren, or pick- 
ing him up a hare on a Sunday morning. The 
other services I render him are of equal impor- 
tance to him, and pleasure to myself. I am his 
constant companion to the field in the morning, 
and back again at night : he knows that his 
clothes and his wallet are safe in my keeping ; 
and he is sure to be roused on. any m.idnight 
alarm, when I am in the house. 

It is with horror I reflect on the numbers of 
my relations, who wiU swing their last, and 
against whom this law seems, indeed, to be le- 
velled. Is it not enough, that our merits are 
neglected, and thought inferior to those of a slow- 
footed race, who inhabit a spacious kennel in the 
squire's jTird, and who are as many hours in 
killing a hai-e, as we are minutes ? Yet they are 
kept by the gi'eat, attended by the noble, and 
every day treated with horse-flesh : while I live 
among the poor, am threatened by the rich, and 
now probably shall be destroyed by public au- 
thority. 

I cannot deny, but the favour of the ladies is 
frequently extended to a small and degenerate 
race, who though they bear our name, may very 
properly be styled the fribbles of our species. 
'Tis time, they are of foreign extraction, which 
alone is sufficient merit ; and seem, indeed, to be 
as much preferred by the beau monde to our 
English greyhounds, as their count rj-men in the 
Haymai-ket are to our English singers. But 
though this breed is so diminutive, that I my- 



* A bill had been broiiglit into parliament for laying 
tax upon dogs. 



No. 64.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



Ill 



self have coursed one of them for a hare, yet I 
will venture to pronounce, that, be the tax what 
it will, not a Fido in the land will be sacrificed 
to the laws. 

Our request to you is to display our merits to 
the woi'ld, and convince mankind of the inno- 
cence of our intentions, and the hardships that 
we already labour under. Though I have en- 
larged on my own case, I have the honour to 
address you in the name of all my brethren ; 
such of them, I mean, as think themselves en- 
dangered by this scheme for om- destruction. 
At the same time we desire you to apprize the 
public of the hazard they may rim, by coming 
to an open rupture ; since, in such a case, the 
mastiffs and the bull-dogs are determined to join 
their forces, and will sell their lives at the dear- 
est rate. 

This last resolution was confirmed by a 
general growl. After which I was thus accost- 
ed by another of the company of the pointing 
breed. 

Little did I think, that the pains I have 
taken, and the blows I have suffered, to perfect 
me in the art I profess, would have been thus 
requited. Having lost the best of masters by an 
accident from his gun, which I can scarce ever 
think of without a howl, I have now, like my 
friend Smoker, the misfortune to live with a 
poor man. A misfortune I now call it, since, 
' alas ! he will not be able to save me from the 
halter, by paying my ransom. He too, I am 
afraid, will be reduced to beggary, since at 
present, I and hi's gun are his chief support. 
if he is deprived of me, and thereby prevented 
from what the rich maliciously term poaching, 
his best resource will be to dispatch himself with 
his gun before he sun'enders it, or to hang him- 
self with the same rope that ties up me. When 
I was a puppy, I was every day fed in the 
kitchen, and caressed in the parlour ; and I have 
now a brother, that always points for the best of 
company. What though our race has been fre- 
quently reproached ? What though we, together 
-with, the spaniels, have been accused, I do not 
say wrongfully, of crouching to our enemies, 
and licking the hand that beats us ? Is not this 
every day practised among your species ? And 
is it not countenanced by the greatest examples ? 
In fawning and flattering we are by no means 
singular; and crouching and cringing are not 
confined to the brute species. 

I very heartily second the request of my 
friend, and I doubt not, but the arguments you 
win use in our behalf will be able to divert the 
storm that threatens us. This you may be 
assured of, that if my life is spared through yo\ir 
means, it shall be devoted to your service ; and 
you shall sup as often as you please, on a brace 
of birds. 

This speech was attended with a bark of 
applause j and I was next accosted by a lap-dog, 



who, after dolefully shaking his ears, began the 
following harangue. 

Though I am aware that many of my species 
will remain unhui't by this scheme devised for 
our destruction, yet I have on my own account 
great reason to be alarmed. I was born, indeed, 
in a noble family in St. James's Square, but un- 
fortunately was within these three months re- 
signed over to my present mistress, an old maid, 
who has been through her w^hole life as frugal of 
her money as her favours. She is, indeed, so 
very saving, that I have more than once been 
beat for lapping up her breakfast cream ; and it 
was but last week, that I was severely corrected 
for devotu'ing a sheep's heart, for which she had 
been to market herself. Such a mistress will 
undoubtedly sacrifice me to this cruel tax ; and 
though you may perhaps imagine the loss of life 
in these circumstances is not much to be re- 
gretted, yet death is a terrible remedy, and a 
living dog is better than a dead lion. But if 
some of our species must perish, sm'ely a regard 
should be had to national merit ; and the storm 
should first fall on those foreign intruders, who 
by the flatness of their noses are supposed to be 
of Dutch extraction. If the ladies also have 
any regard for the honour of their country, or 
any love remaining for us, it becomes them to 
take our case into consideration. And I make 
no doubt, since the female parliament is now 
sitting (if you. Sir, would but draw up a 
petition in our favour), as the other sex have 
taken necessary precautions for the preservation 
of the game, the ladies would in their turn bring 
in a bill for the preservation of lap-dogs. 

Various were the arguments that many others 
used in their own behalf. The mastiff insisted 
on the protection he afforded us, and the terror 
he struck into thieves and house-breakers. 
King Charles's black favoui'ites came fawning 
upon me, and hoped that their breed might be 
preserved in deference to the taste of so witty a 
monarch.^ I could not help smiling at the argu- 
ment made use of by a bull-dog from Norfolk ; 
who declared, that he was so instrumental to 
the mii'th of the county, that he firmly believed 
they would never part with him ; but begged 
at the same time, that, if sentence must pass, it 
might be changed into banishment, and that 
Spain (where bull-feasts are held in so much 
honour) might be the place of his transporta- 
tion. 

The eloquence and gesture of my four-footed 
visitors had such an influence OA^er me, that I 
was just going to answer them in the manner 
they could wish, when my OAvn dog on a sudden 
jumped into my lap, and roused me from my 
dream. 



112 THE CONNOISSEUR. 

JSJo. 65.] TnuasnAv, April 24, 1755. 



[No. 65. 



Nee tamen indignum si vobis cura placcndi, 

Chm comptos habeant scecula nostra vivos. Ovid. 

Blame not the belles, since modem times can show 
Tliat ape of female foppery, call'd a beau. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



As no one has a greater respect for the fair sex 
than myself, I was highly pleased with a letter 
inserted some time ago in your paper, ridiculing 
the detestable use of paint among the ladies. 
This practice is, indeed, too general ; and for 
my own part, when I meet a blooming fresh- 
coloured face in town, I no more take it for the 
real face belonging to the lady, than I imagine 
Queen Anne's portrait delineated on a sign post 
to be her majesty's flesh and blood. 

But this fashion is not confined to the ladies. 
I am ashamed to tell you, that we are indebted 
to Spanish wool for many of our masculine 
ruddy complexions. A pretty fellow lackers his 
pale face with as many varnishes as a fine lady ; 
and it is well known, that late hours at *;he 
card-table, amusements at Haddock's, immo- 
derate draughts of Champagne, and sleeping all 
night upon a bulk, will strip the most healthy 
complexion of its roses. Therefore, to repair 
the loss, they are obliged to substitute the un- 
wholesome disguise of art for the native hue of 
a vigorous constitution. 

I must leave it to you, Mr. Town, or your 
ingenious correspondent, to enlarge upon this 
subject, and will only just appeal to the ladies, 
whether a smooth fair face is a proper recom- 
mendation of a man to their favour ; and whe- 
ther they do not look upon those of the other 
sex as a contemptible sort of rivals, who aspire 
to be thought charming and pretty? As many 
females are also conscious, that they themselves 
endeavour to conceal by art the defects of na- 
ture, they are apt to suspect those of our sex, 
who are so very solicitous to set off their per- 
sons : and, indeed, I fear it will be found upon 
examination, that most of our pretty fellows, 
who lay on carmine, are painting a rotten post. 
I am, Sir, 

Your humble Servant, 

W. Manly. 

Many of my readers, will, I dare say, be 
hardly persuaded, that this custom could have 
ever prevailed as a branch of male foppery ; but 
it is too notoi-ious, that our fine gentlemen, in 
many other instances besides the article of paint, 
affect the softness and delicacy of the fair sex. 
"J'he male beauty has his washes, perfumes, and 
cosmetics ; and takes as much pains to set a glo>;s 
on his complexion, as the footman in japanning 



his shoes. He has his dressing-room, and 
(which is still more ridiculous) his toilette too; 
at which he sits as many hours repairing hit' 
battered countenance as a decayed toast dressing 
for a birth-night. I had once an opportunity of 
taking a survey of one of these male-toilettes; 
and, as such a curiosity may, perhaps, prove 
entertaining to many of my readers, I here shall 
give a description of it. 

Having occasion one morning to wait on a 
very pretty fellow, I was desired by the valet de 
chambre to walk into the dressing-room, as his 
master was not stirring. I was accordingly 
shown into a neat little chamber, hung round 
with India paper, and adorned with several lit- 
tle images of pagods, and bramins, and vessels 
of Chelsea China, in which were set various 
coloured sprigs of artificial flowers. But the 
toilette most excited my admiration; where I 
found every thing was intended to be agreeable 
to the Chinese taste. A looking-glass, enclosed 
in a whimsical frame of Chinese paling, stood 
upon a japan table, over which was spread a 
coverlid of the finest chintz. I could not but 
observe a number of boxes of different sizes, 
which were all of them japan, and lay regularly 
disposed on the table. I had the curiosity to 
examine the contents of several ; and in one 1 
found lip-salve, in another a roll of pig-tail, and 
in another the ladies' black sticking-plaster; but 
the last which I opened very much surprised me, 
as I saw nothing in it but a number of little 
pills. I likewise remarked, on one part of the 
table, a tooth-brush and sponge, with a pot of 
Delescot's opiate ; and on the other side, water 
for the eyes. In the middle stood a bottle of 
Eau de Luce, and a roll of perfumed poma- 
tum : almond -pastes, powder-puffs, hair-combs, 
brushes, nippers, and the like, made up the rest 
of this fantastic equipage : but, among many 
other whimsies, I could not perceive for what a 
very small ivory comb could be designed, till the 
valet informed me, that it was a comb for the 
eye-brows. 

It must be confessed, that there are some men 
of such a delicate make and silky constitution, 
that it is no wonder, if gentlemen of such a lady- 
like generation have a natural tendency to the re- 
finements and softness of females. These tender 
dear creatures are generally bred up immediately 
under the wing of their mammas, and scarce fed 
with any thing less innocent than her milk. They 
are never permitted to study, lest it should hurt 
their eyes, and make their heads ache ; nor suf- 
fered to use any exercises, like other boys, lest a 
fine hand should be spoiled by being used too 
roughly. While other lads are flogged into the 
five declensions, and at length lashed through 
a whole school, these pretty masters are kept at 
home to improve in whip-syllabubs, pastry and 
face-painting. In consequence of which, when 
otlior young fellows begin to appear like men, 



No. 66.2 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



113 



these dainty creatures come into the world with 
all the accomplishments of a lady's woman. 

But if the common foibles of the female world 
are ridiculous even in these equivocal half-men, 
these neuter somethings between male and fe- 
male, how awkwardly must they sit upon the 
more robust and masculine part of mankind ? 
What indeed can be more absurd than to see a 
huge fellow Avith the make of a porter, and fit 
to mount the stage as a champion at Brough- 
ton's amphitheatre, sitting to varnish his broad 
face with paint and Benjamin-wash ? For my 
part, I never see a great looby ainaing at delica- 
tesse, but he seems as strange and uncouth a figure 
as Achilles in petticoats. This folly is also to be 
particularly condemned, when it appears in the 
more solemn characters of life, to which a gra- 
vity of appearance is essential ; and in which 
the least marks of foppery seem as improper, as 
a physician would seem ridiculous prescribing in 
a bag-wig, or a serjeant pleading at the King's 
Bench in his own hair instead of a night-cap 
periwig. As I think an instance or two of this 
kind would show this folly in the most striking 
light, I shall here subjoin two characters, in 
whom, as it is most improper, it Tvill consequent- 
ly appear most ridiculous. 

John Hardman is upwards of six feet high, 
and stout enough to beat two of the sturdiest 
chairmen that ever came out of Ireland. Nature, 
indeed, seems to have intended John himself to 
carry a chair ; but fortune has enabled him to 
appear in whatever character he likes best, and 
he has wisely discovered, that none will sit so 
easy on him as that of a pretty fellow. It is 
therefore his study to new-mould his face and 
person : he throws his goggle eyes into leers, 
languishes, and ogles ; and endeavours to dra^v 
up his hideous mouth, w^hich extends fi"om one 
ear to the other, into a simper. His voice, 
which is naturally of a deeper base than a 
hurdy-gurdy, is in a manner set to a new tune ; 
and his speech, which is very much tinctured 
with the broad dialect of a particular county, 
is delivered with so much nicety and gentleness, 
that every word is minced and clipped in order 
to appear soft and delicate. When he walks he 
endeavours to move his unwieldy figure along in 
the pert trip, or easy shambling pace of our 
pretty fellows ; and he commonly canies a thin 
jemmy stick in his hand, which natui'ally re- 
minds us of Hercules with a distaff. 

The Reverend Mr. Jessamy, (who took 
orders, only because there was a good living in 
the family) is known among the ladies by the 
name of the beau-parson. He is, indeed, the 
most delicate creature imaginable ; and differs so 
much from the generality of the clergy, that I 
believe the very sight of a plum-pudding would 
make him swoon. Out of his canonicals, his 
constant dress is what they call parson's-blue 
lined with white, a black satin waistcoat, velvet 



breeches, and silk stockings : and his pumps are 
of dog-skin, made by Tull ; and it is said, that 
he had a joint of one of his toes cut off, whose 
length being out of all proportion prevented his 
having a handsome foot. His very grizzle is 
scarce orthodox : for, though it would be open 
schism to wear a bag, yet his wig has always a 
bag-front, and is properly cropped behind, that 
it may not eclipse the lustre ; of his diamond 
stock-buckle. He cannot bear the thoughts of 
being sea-sick : or else he declares he would 
certainly go abroad, where he might again re- 
sume his laced clothes, and appear like a gentle- 
man in a bag- wig and sword. T. 



No. 66.] Thursday, May 1, 1755. 



Dctrahere et vettem, nitidus qua qutsqueper ora 
Cederet. Hon. 

Where all, their beauties to full view display 'd. 
May undisguised appear in Masquerade. 

Ajioxg the many exotic diversions, that have 
been transplanted into this country there is no 
one more cultivated, or w^hich seems to have 
taken deeper root among us, than that modest 
and rational entertainment the masquerade. 
This, as well as the opera, is originally of Italian 
growth, and Avas brought over hither by the 
celebrated Heidegger; who on both accounts 
justly acquired among his own countrymen the 
honom-able title of Sur-Intendant des Plaisirs 
d" Angle terrc. 

I have called the masquerade a modest and ra- 
tional entertainment. As to the first no one 
can have the least scruple about its innocence, if 
he considers, that it is always made a part of tlie 
education of oiu' polite females ; and that the 
most virtuous woman is not ashamed to appear- 
there. If it be objected, that a lady is expose 1 
to hear many indecencies from the men, (as the 
mask gives them a privilege to say any thing, 
though ever so rude) it may be answered, that 
no lady is obliged to take the affront to herself ; 
because, as she goes disguised, the indignity is 
not offered to her in her own proper person. 
Besides, according to Dryden, 

She cannot blush, because they cannot see. 

As to the rationality of this entertainment, eA-ery 
one will agi'ee with me, that these midnight 
orgies are full as rational as sitting up all night 
at the card-table. Nor is it more strange, that 
five or six hundred people should meet together 
in disguises purposely to conceal themselA'es, than 
that the same number should assemble at a rout, 
where most of the company are Avholly unac- 
quainted with each other. 

But we can never enough admire the Avit and 
humour of these meetings ; Avhich greatly con^ 
Q 



114 



THE CONNOISSEUIt 



[No. 66. 



sist in exlubiting the most fantastic appearances, 
that the most whimsical imagination can possi- 
bly devise. A common person may be content 
with appearing as a Chinese, a Turk, or a 
Friar; but the true genius will ransack earth, 
air, and seas, reconcile contradictions, and 
call in things inanimate, as Avell as animate, 
to his assistance ; and the more extravagant 
and out. of nature his dress can be contrived, 
the higher is the joke. I remember one 
gentleman above six foot high, who came to 
the masquei'ade drest like a child in a white 
frock and leading strings, attended by another 
gentleman of a very low stature, who officiat- 
ed as his nurse. The same witty spark took 
it into his head at another time to personate 
Fame, and w^as stuck all over Avitli peacock's 
feathers by way of eyes : but when he came to 
fasten on his Avings, they were spread to so enor- 
mous a length, that no coach or chair was spa- 
cious enough to admit him ; so that he was forced 
to be conveyed along the streets on a chaii'man's 
horse, covered with a blanket. Another gentle- 
man, of no less humour, A^ery much svu'prised 
the company by caiTying a thatched house about 
him ; which was so contrived, that no part of 
him could be seen, except his face, which was 
looldng out of the casement : but this joke had 
like to have cost him dear, as another wag was 
going to set fire to the building, because he found, 
by the leaden policy affixed to the front, that the 
tenement was insured. In a word, dogs, mon- 
keys, osti'iches, and all kinds of monsters, are as 
frequently to be miet with at the masquerade, as 
in the Coven t- Garden pantomimes : and I once 
saw with great delight a gentleman (who per- 
sonated one of Bayes' recruits) prance a minuet 
on his hobby-horse, with a dancing bear for his 
partner. 

I have said before, that the masquerade is of 
foreign extraction, and imported to us from 
abroad. But as the English, though slow at in- 
vention, are remarkable for improving on what 
has already been invented, it is no wonder that 
we should attempt to heighten the gusto of this 
entertainment, and even carry it beyond the li- 
cense of a foreign carnival. There is something 
too insipid in our fine gentlemen stalking about 
in dominos ; and it is rather cruel to eclipse the 
prettyfacesof our fine ladies with hideous masks; 
for which reason it has been judged requisite 
to contrive a masquerade upon a new plan, and 
in an entire new taste. We all remember, when 
(a few years ago) a celebrated lady endeavoured 
to introduce a new species of masquerade among 
us, by lopping off the exuberance of dress ; and 
she herself first set the example, by stripping to 
the character of Iphigenia undrest for the sacri- 
fice. I must own it is a matter of some surprise 
to me, (considering the propensity of our modern 
ladies to get rid of their clothes,) that other 
Iphigenias did not immediately start up," and 



that nuns and vestals should be suffered ever 
after to be seen among the masks. But this pro- 
ject, it seems, was not then sufficiently ripe for 
execution, as a certain awkward thing, called 
bashfulness, had not yet been banished from the 
female world: and to the present enlightened 
times was reserved the honour of introducing 
(however contradictory the term may seem) a 
naked masquerade. 

What the above mentioned lady had the hardi- 
ness to attempt alone, wUl (I am assured) be set 
on foot by our persons of fashion, as soon as 
the hot days come in. Ranelagh is the place 
pitched upon for their meeting ; where it is pro- 
posed to have a masquerade ^l Fresco, and the 
whole company are to display all their charms 
in jmris naturalibus. The pantheon of the Hea- 
then Gods, Ovid's Metamoi'phoscs, and Titian's 
prints, will supply them with a sufficient va- 
riety of undi-est characters. One set of ladies, 
I am told, intend to personate water-nymphs 
bathing in the canal : three sisters, celebrated for 
their charms, design to appear together as the 
three Graces: and a certain lady of quality, who 
most resembles the goddess of beauty, is now 
practising from a model of the noted statue of 
Vemis de Medicis, the most striking attitude for 
that character. As to the gentlemen, they may 
most of them represent \cry suitably the half- 
brutal forms of Satji's, Pans, Fauns, and Cen- 
tam's : our beaux may assume the semblance of 
the beardless Apollo, or (which would be more 
natural) may admire themselves in the person of 
Narcissus ; and oui- bucks might act quite in 
character, by running about stark-naked with 
their mistresses, and committing the maddest 
freaks, like the priests and priestesses of Bac- 
chus celebi-ating the Bacchanalian mysteries. 

If this scheme for a naked masquerade should 
meet with encom*agement, (as there is no doubt 
but it must) it is proposed to improve it still 
fui'ther. Pei*sons of fashion cannot but lament, 
that there are no diversions allotted to Simday, 
except the cai'd-table, and they can never enough 
I'egret, that the Sunday evening tea-drinkiugs 
at Ranelagh were laid aside, from a supersti- 
tious regard to religion. They therefore intend 
to have a pai'ticulai* sort of masquerade on that 
day ; in which they may show their taste by 
ridiculing all the old women's tales contained 
in that idle book of fables the Bible, while the 
vulg.ar are devoutly attending to them at church. 
This, indeed, is not without a parallel : we have 
had an instance already of an Eve : and by bor- 
i-owing the sei'pent in Orpheus and Eurydice, 
we might have the whole story of the Fall of 
Man exhibited in masquerade. 

It must, indeed, be acknowledged, that this 
project has ali'eady taken place among the low- 
est of the people, who seem to have been the first 
conti'ivers of a naked masq uerade : and last 
summer I remember an article in the news- 



No. 67-] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



115 



papers, that " several persons of both sexes were 
assembled naked at Pimlico, and being carried 
before a magistrate were sent to Bridewell.' 
This, indeed, is too refined a pleasure to be 
allowed the vulgar ; and every body will agree 
with me, that the same act, which at the Green 
Lamps or Fimlico appears low and criminal, 
may be extremely polite and commendable in the 
Haymarket or at Ranelagh. W. 



No. 67.] Thursday, May 8, 1755. 



imitatores, sermtn pecus ! 

Dull imitators ! like the servile hack. 
Still slowly plodding in the beaten track. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sib, 



Bayes in the Rehearsal frequently boasts it as 
his chief excellence, that he treads on no man's 
heels, that he scorns to follow the steps of others ; 
and when he is asked the reason of inserting 
any absurdity in his play, he answers, because 
it is new. The poets of the present time run 
into the contrary error : they are so far from 
endeavouring to elevate and surprise by any 
thing original, that their whole business is imi- 
tation J and they jingle their bells in the same 
road with those that went before them, Avith all 
the dull exactness of a packhorse. 

The generality of our writers wait till a new 
walk is pointed out to them by some leading ge- 
nius ; when it immediately becomes so hackneyed 
and beaten, that an author of credit is almost 
ashamed to appear in it among such bad com- 
pany. No sooner does one man of parts suc- 
ceed in any particular mode of writing, but he 
is followed by a thousand dunces. A good elegy 
makes the little scribblers direct their whole 
bent to subjects of grief ; and for a whole win- 
ter, the press groans Avith melancholy. One 
novel of reputation fills all the garrets of Grub- 
street with whole reams of histories and adven- 
tures, where volume is spun out after volume, 
without the least wit, humour, or incident. In 
a word, as Bayes obviated all objections to his 
nonsense, by saying it was new, if a modern 
writer was asked why he chose any particular 
manner of writing, he might reply, because it is 
the fashion. 

True genius will not give in to such idle exti'a- 
vagant flights of imagination as Bayes's ; it will 
not turn funerals into banquets, or introduce 
armies in disguise ; but still it will not confine 
itself to the narrow track of imitation. I can- 
not help thinking, that it is more owing to this 
servile spirit in the authoi-s of the present times, 
than to their want of abilities, that we cannot 
now boast a sot of eminent writers : and it is 



worthy observation, that whenever any age has 
been distinguished by a great number of excel- 
lent authors, they have most of them cultivated 
different branches of poetry from each other. 
This was the case in the age of Augustus, as 
appears from the works of Virgil, Horace, 
Ovid, &c. : and to come dovm as late as possi- 
ble, this is evident from our last famous set of 
authors, who flom-ished in the beginning of this 
century. We admire Swift, Pope, Gay, Boling- 
broke, Addison, Ssc. but we admire each for his 
particular beauties, separate and distinguished 
from the rest. 

These loose thoughts were thrown together 
merely to introduce the following little poem, 
which I think deserves the attention of the 
public. It was written by a very ingenious 
gentleman, as a letter to a friend, who was about 
to publish a volume of miscellanies ; and con- 
tains all that original spirit, which it so elegantly 
recommends. 



To 



Since now, all scruples cast away. 
Your works are rising into day. 
Forgive, though I presume to send 
This honest counsel of a friend. 
Let not your verse, as verse now goes. 
Be a strange kind of measured prose ; 
Nor let your prose, which sure is worse. 
Want nought but measure to be verse. 
Write from your own imagination. 
Nor curb your muse by imitation : 
For copies show, howe'er exprest, 
A barren genius at the best, 

But, imitation's all the mode, 

Yet, where one hits, ten miss the road. 

The mimic bard with pleasure sees 
Mat. Prior's unaffected ease : 
Assumes his style, affects a story. 
Sets every circumstance before ye. 
The day, the hour, the name, the dwelling. 
And mars a curious tale in telling : 
Observes how easy Prior flows. 
Then runs his numbers_down to prose. 

Others have sought the filthy stews 
To find a dirty slip-shod muse. 
Their groping genius, while it rakes 
The bogs, the common sewers, and jakes. 
Ordure and filth in rhyme exposes. 
Disgustful to our eyes and noses : 

With many a dash that must offend us. 

And much ***** 
******** 
* * * * Hiatus non dejlcndus. 
O Swift ! how wouldst thou blush to sec. 
Such are the bards who copy thee ? 

This Milton for his plan wiU choose ! 
Wherein resembling Milton's Muse ? 
Blilton like tluinder rolls along. 
In all the majesty of song ; 
While his low mimics meanly creep. 
Not quite awake, nor quite asleep : 
Or, if their thunder chance to roll, 
'Tis thunder of the mustard bowU 



116 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 68. 



The stiff" expression, phrases strange, 
The epithet's prejiostorous change. 
Forced numbers, rough and unix)lite. 
Such as the judging ear affright. 
Stop in mid verse. Ye mimics vile ! 
Is't thus ye copy Milton's style ? 
His faults religiously ye trace. 
But borrow not a single grace. 

How few, say whence can it proceed ? 
"Who copy Milton, e'er succeed. 
But all their labours are in vain : 
And wherefore so ? The reason's plain. 
Take it for granted, 'tis by those 
Milton's the model mostly chose. 
Who can't write verse, and won't write prose. 

Others, who aim at fancy, choose 
To woo the gentle Spenser's Muse. 
This poet fixes for his theme 
On allegory, or a dream ; 
Fiction and truth together joins 
Through a long waste of flimsy lines ; 
Fondly believes his fancy glows. 
And image upon image grows ; 
Thinks his strong muse takes wond'rous flights. 
Whene'er she sings of peerless wights. 
Of dens, of palfreys, spells, and knights : 
Till allegory, Spenser's veil 
T' instruct and please in moral tale. 
With hira's no veil the truth to shroud. 
But one impenetrable cloud. 

Others, more daring, fix their hope 
On rivalling the fame of Pope. 
Satire's the word, against the times. 
These catch the cadence of his rhymes. 
And borne from earth by Pope's strong wings. 
Their muse aspires, and boldly flings 
Her dirt up in the face of kings. 
In these the spleen of Pope we find. 
But where the greatness of his mind ? 
His numbers are their whole pretence. 
Mere strangers to his manly sense. 

Some few, the fav'rites of the muse. 
Whom with her kindest eye she views ; 
Round whom Apollo's brightest rays 
Shine forth with undiminish'd blaze ; 
Some few my friend, have sweetly trod 
In Imitation's dangerous road. 
Long as Tobacco's mild perfume 
Shall scent each happy curate's room, 
Oft as in elbow chair he smokes. 
And quaffs his ale, and cracks his jokes. 
So long, O Brown,* shall last thy praise, 
Crown'd with tobacco-leaf for bays ; 
And whosoe'er thy verse shall see. 
Shall fill another pipe to thee. 



No. 68.] Thursday, May 10, 1755. 



Nunc ft campus, et arece, 

Lenesquc sub noctc?n susiim 
Compositd repeiantur liord. 



HOR. 



* Isaac Hawkins Brown, Esq. author of a Piece callctl 
the Pipe of Tobacco, a most excellent imitation of six dif- 
ferent authors. 



Now Venus in Vauxhall her altar rears. 
While fiddles drown the music of the spheres ; 
Now girls hum out their loves to every tree, 
" Young jockey is the lad, the lad for me." 

The vai'ioiis seasons of the yeai* produce not a 
greater alteration in the face of nature, than in 
the polite manner of passmg our time. The 
diversions of winter and summer ai-e as different 
as the dog-days and those at Christmas ; nor do 
I know any genteel amusement, except gaming, 
that prevails during the whole year. As the 
long days are now coming on, the theatrical gen- 
try, who contribute to dissipate the gloom of our 
winter evenings, begin to divide themselves into 
strolling companies ; and are packing up their 
tragedy wardrobes, together with a sufficient 
quantity of thimder and lightning, for the de- 
light and amazement of the country. In the 
meantime, the several public gardens near this 
metropolis are trimming their trees, levelling 
their walks, and burnishing their lamps, for our 
reception. At Vauxhall the artificial ruins are 
repaired ; the cascade is made to spout with sev- 
eral additional streams of block-tin ; and they 
have touched up all the pictures, Avhich Avere 
damaged last season by the fingering of those 
curiovis Connoisseiu's, who could not be satisfied 
without feeling whether the figures were alive. 
The magazine at Cuper's, I am told, is furnish- 
ed Avith an extraordinary supply of gunpowder 
to be shot off in squibs and sky-rockets, or 
whirled away in blazing suns and Catherine 
wheels : and it is not to be doubted, in case of a 
war, but that Neptune and all his Tritons will 
assist the British navy ; and as we before took 
Porto- Bello and Cape- Breton, we shall gain new 
victories over the French fleet every night, upon 
that canal. 

Happy are they, who can muster up sufficient, 
at least to hire tickets at the door, once or twice 
in a season ! Not that these pleasures are confined 
to the rich and the great only : for the lower 
sort of people have their llauelaghs and theii- 
Vauxhalls as well as the quality. Peri'ot's in- 
imitable grotto may be seen for only calling for 
a pot of beer j and the royal diversion of duck- 
hunting may be had into the bargain, togethei' 
with a decanter of Dorchester, for your sixpence 
at Jenny's Whim. Every skittle-alley half a 
mile out of town is embellished with green ar- 
bours and shady retreats ; where the company is 
generally entertained with the melodious scrap- 
ing of a blind fiddler. And who can resist the 
luscious temptation of a fine juicy ham, or a de- 
licious buttock of beef stuffed with piu*sley, ac- 
companied with a foaming decanter of sparkling 
home-brewed, which is so invitingly painted at 
the entrance of almost every village ale-house i* 

Our northern climate will not, indeed, allow 
us to indulge ourselves in all those pleasures of a 
garden, which are so feelingly described by our 



i 



No. 68.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



117 



poets. We dare not lay om-selves on the damp 
ground in shady groves, or by the purling 
stream ; but are obliged to fortify our insides 
against the cold by good substantial eating 
and drinking. For this reason the extreme cost- 
liness of the provisions at om* public gardens has 
been gi-ievously complained of by those gentry, 
to whom a supper at these places is as necessary 
a part of the entertainment, as the singing or the 
fire works. Poor Mr. John sees, with a heavy 
heart, the profits of a whole week's card-money 
devoured in tarts and cheesecakes by Mrs. 
Housekeeper, or Mrs. Lady's O^vn Woman; 
and the substantial cit, who comes from behind 
the counter two or three evenings in the summer, 
can never enough regret the thin wafer-like 
slices of beef and ham, that taste of nothing but 
the knife. 

I was greatly diverted last Saturday evening 
at Vauxhall, with the shrewd remarks made on 
this very head by an honest citizen, whose wife 
and two daughters had I found, prevailed on 
him to caiTy them to the garden. As I thought 
there was something cui'ious in their behaviour, 
I went into the next box to them, where I had 
an opportimity of seeing and over-hearing every 
thing that passed. 

After some talk, — " Come, come," said the 
old don, " it is high time, I think, to go to sup- 
per." To this the ladles readily assented ; and 
one of the Misses said, " Do let us have chick, 
papa." " Zounds !" said the father, " they are 
half-a-croAvn a-piece, and no bigger than a spar- 
row." Here the old lady took him up. " You 
are so stingy, Mr. Rose, there is no bearing you. 
When one is out upon pleasui-e, I love to appear 
like somebody : and what signifies a few shil- 
lings once and away, when a body is about it ?" 
This reproof so effectually silenced the old gen- 
tleman, that the youngest Miss had the coui-age 
to put in a word for some ham likewise : accor- 
dingly the waiter was called, and despatched by 
the old lady with an order for a chicken and a 
plate of ham. When it was brought, our honest 
cit twirled the dish about three or four times, 
and sur^'eyed it with a very settled countenance ; 
then taking up the slice of ham, and dangling it 
to and fro on the end of his foi*k, asked the 
waiter how much there was of it. "A shilling's 
worth, Sir," said the fello^v. — " Prithee," said 
the don, " how much dost thou think it weighs ? — 
An ounce ? — A shilling an oimce ! that is sixteen 
shillings per pound ! — A reasonable profit truly ! 
— Let me see— suppose now the whole ham 
' weighs thirty pounds : — at a shilling per ounce, 
that is, sixteen shillings per poimd, why your 
master makes exactly twenty-four pounds of 
every ham ; and if he buj^s them at the best 
hand, and salts them^ and cui'es thenx himself, 
they don't stand him in ten shillings a-piece. " 
The old lady bade him hold his nonsense, declar- 
ed herself ashamed for him, and asked if people 



must not live : then taking a coloured handker- 
chief from her own neck, she tucked it into his 
shirt-collar, (whence it htuig like a bib) and 
helped him to a leg of the chicken. The old 
gentleman, at every bit he put into his mouth, 
amused himself with saying,— " There goes two 
pence — there goes three pence — there goes a 
groat. — Zounds, a man at these places should 
not have a swallow as wide as a tom-tit." 

This scanty repast, we may imagine, was 
soon despatched ; and it was with much diffi- 
culty our citizen was prevailed on to suifer a 
plate of beef to be ordered. This too Avas no 
less admired, and underwent the same comraents 
with the ham : at length Avhen only a very small 
bit was left, as they say, for manners in the 
dish, oiu- don took a piece of an old newspaper 
oiit of his pocket, and gravely wi-apping up the 
meat in it, placed it carefully in his letter-case. 
" I'll keep thee as a cui'iosity to my dying day ; 
and I'll show them to my neighboiu" Horseman, 
and ask him if he can make as much of his 
Gteaks." Then rubbing his hands, and shrug- 
ging up his shoulders — " Why now," says he •' to- 
mori'ow night I may eat as much cold beef as I 
can stuff in any tavern in London, and pay no- 
thing for it." A dish of tai'ts, cheesecakes, and 
custards next made their appearance at the re- 
quest of the young ladies, who paid no sort of 
regard to the father's remonstrance, " that they 
were fom* times as dear as at the pastry-cook's." 

Supper being ended, madam put her spouse in 
mind to call for wine. — " We must have some 
whie, my dear, or we shall not be looked upon, 
you know." "Well, weU," says the don, 
" that's right enough. But do they sell their 

liquor too by the ounce? Here, drawer, 

what wine have you got ?" The fellow, who 
by this time began to smoke liis guests, answer- 
ed — ■" We have exceeding good French wine of 
all sorts, and please your honour. Would your 
honoui" have a bottle of Champagne, or Burgun- 
dy, or Claret, or" — " No, no, none of your wishy- 
washy outlandish rot-gut for me ;" interrupted 

the citizen. " A tankai'd of the Alderman 

beats all the red claret wine in the French king's 
cellar. — But come, bring us a bottle of somid 
old Port : and, dy'e hear ? let it be good. " 

While the waiter was gone, the good man 
most sadly lamented that he could not have his 
pipe ; which the wife would by no means allow, 
" because," she said, " it was ungenteel to smoke, 
where any ladies were in company." When the 
w^ine came, our citizen gravely took up the 
bottle, and holding it above his head, " Ay, ay,'* 
said he, " the bottom has had a good kick. — And 
mind how confoundedly it is pinched on the 
sides. — Not above five gills, I warrant. — An old 
soldier at the Jerusalem would beat t\voof them. 
— But let us see how it is brewed." He then 
pom'ed out a glass ; and after holding it up be- 
fore the candle, smelling to it, sipping it twico 



118 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 69. 



or thrice, and smacking with his lips, drauk it 
off: but declaring that second thoughts were 
best, he filled another bumper : and tossing that 
off, after some pause, with a very important ah*, 
ventured to pronounce it drinkable. The ladies, 
having also drank a glass roiind, affirmed it was 
very good, and felt warm in the stomach : and 
even the old gentleman relaxed into such good 
humour by the time the bottle was emptied, that 
out of liis own free Avill and motion he most 
generously called for another pint, but charged 
the waiter " to pick out an honest one." 

While the glass was thus circulating, the fa- 
mily amused themselves by making obsei-vations 
on the garden. The citizen expressed his won- 
der at the number of lamps, and said it must 
cost a great deal of money every night to light 
them all : the eldest Miss declared, that for her 
part she liked the dark walk best of all, because 
it was solentary ; little Miss thought the last song 
mighty pretty, and said she would buy it, if she 
could but carry home the tune : and the old lady 
observed, that there was a great deal of good com- 
pany indeed ; but the gentlemen were so rude, 
that they perfectly put her out of countenance 
by staring at her through their spy-glasses. In 
a word, the tarts, the cheesecakes, the beef, the 
chicken, the ounce of ham, and every thing, 
seemed to have been quite forgot, till the dismal 
moment approached, that the reckoning was 
called foi*. As this solemn business concerns all 
the gentlemen, the ladies kept a profound si- 
lence ; and when the terrible account w^as 
brought, they left the pay-master undisturbed, to 
enjoy the misery by himself; only the old lady 
had the hardiness to squint at the sum total, 
and declared " it was pretty reasonable consider- 
ing." 

Our citizen bore his misfortunes with a to- 
lerable degree of patience. He shook his head 
as he run over every article, and swore he wotild 
never buy meat by the ounce again. At length, 
when he had carefully summed up every figure, 
he bade the drawer bring change for sixpence : 
then pulling out a leathern purse fi'om a snug 
pocket in the inside of his waistcoat, he drew out 
slowly, piece by piece, thu'teen shillings ; which 
he regularly placed in two I'ows upon the table. 
When the change was brought, after counting it 
very carefully, he laid down four half-pence in 
the same exact order : then calling the waiter, 
— " There," says he, " there's your damage^ 

thirteen and two pence And harkye, there's 

three-pence over for yourself. " The remaining 
penny he put into his coat-pocket : and chinking 
it — " This," says he, " will serve me to-morrow 
to buy a paper of tobacco." 

The family now prepared themselves for 
going : and as there were some slight drops of 
rain, madam buttoned up the old gentleman's 
coat, that he might not spoil his laced waistcoat ; 
and made him flap his hat, over which she tied 



his pocket handkerchief to save his wig, and as 
the coat itself (she said) had never been worn 
but three Sundays, she even parted with her 
own cardinal, and spread it the wrong side out 
over his shoulders. In these accoutrements he 
sallied forth, accompanied by his wife with her 
upper petticoat thrown over her head, and his 
daughters with the skirts of their gowns turned 
up, and their heads muffled up in coloured hand- 
kerchiefs. I followed them quite out of the gar- 
den : and as they were waiting for theii* hack to 
draw up, the youngest Miss asked, " When shall 
we come again, papa!" " Come again?" (says 
he) " What a pox, would you ruin me ? Once in 
one's life is enough ; and I tliink I have done 
very handsome. Why, it would not have cost 
me above four-pe^ce half-penny to have spent 
my evening at Sot's Hole ; and what with the 
cursed coach-hire, and all together, here's almost 
a pound gone, and nothingto show for it." — '*Fie, 
Mr. Rose, I am quite ashamed for you," replies 
the old lady. " You are always grudging me 
and jowi' girls the least bit of pleasure : and you 
cannot help grumbling, if we do but go to Little 
Hornsey to drink tea. I am sui'e, now they are 
women grown up, they ought to see' a little of 
the world ; — and they shall." The old don was 
not willing to pui'sue the argument any fm*thcr; 
and the coach coming up, he Avas glad to put an 
end to the dispute by saying, — ''Come, come, let 
us make haste, wife ; or we shall not get home 
time enough to have my best wig combed out 
again ; and to-morrow, you know, is Sunday." 

W. 



No. 69.] Thursday, May 22, 1755. 



Dignior est vestro milla puella chore. I'ibijli. 

Behold a train of female wits aspire, 
"With men to mingle in the Muses' quire. 

In a visit which I paid the other day to a lady 
of gi'eat sense and taste, I was agreeably siu*- 
prised by having two little voliunes put into my 
hands, which have been lately published under 
the title of " Poems by Eminent Ladies." 
These volumes are, indeed, (as the author of the 
pref^ice has remarked) " the most solid compli- 
ment that can possibly be paid to the fair sex." 
I never imagined, that our nation could boast so 
many excellent poetesses, (whose works are an 
honour to their country,) as were here collected 
together : and it is with the liighest satisfaction 
I can assure my female readers in particular 
that I have found a groat number of very ele- 
gant pieces among the compositions of these la- 
dies, which cannot be sui'passed (I had almost 
said, equalled) by the most celebrated of our 
male- writers. 

The pleasiu'e, which I received fi-om n.nli.i ; 



No. 69.]' 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



ng 



these poems, made sucli an impression on my 
mind that, at night, as soon as I fell asleep, my 
fancy presented to me the following dream. I 
was transported I know not how, to the regions 
of Parnassus : and found myself in the court of 
Apollo, surrounded by a great number of our 
most eminent poets. A cause of the utmost im- 
portance was then depending ; and the debate 
was, whether the English ladies, who had dis- 
tinguished themselves in poetrj', should be allow- 
ed to hold the same rank, and have the same 
honours paid them, with the men. As the mo- 
derns were not pennitted to plead in their own 
suit, Juvenal was retained on the side of the 
male poets, and Sappho undertook the defence of 
the other sex. The Roman Satirist, in his 
speech at the bar, inveighed bitterly against 
women in general, and particularly exclaimed 
against their dabbling in literature : but when 
Sappho came to set fortli the pretensions which 
the ladies justly had to poetry, and especially in 
love affairs, Apollo could no longer resist the 
importunity of the Muses in favour of their own 
sex. He therefore decreed that all those fe- 
males, who thought themselves able to manage 
Pegasus, should immediately show their skill 
and dexterity in riding him. 

Pegasus was accordingly brought out of the 
stable, and the Muses furnished him with a side- 
saddle. AU the ladies, who had courage enough 
to venture on his back, were prepared to mount : 
but as a great dispute arose among some of the 
competitors about precedency, (each of them 
claiming a right to ride first,) it was at length 
agreed, that they should get into the saddle 
according to seniority. 

Upon this a lady advanced ; who, though she 
had something rather extravagant in her an- and 
deportment, yet she had a noble presence, that 
commanded at once awe and admiration. She 
was dressed in an old fashioned habit, vei-y fan- 
tastic, and trimmed Avith bugles and points ; 
such as was worn in the time of King Charles 
the First. This lady, I was informed, was the 
Dutchess of Newcastle. Wlien she came to 
mount, she sprung into the saddle with sui-pris- 
ing agility ; and giving an entire loose to the 
reins, Pegasus directly set up a gallop, and ran 
away with her quite out of sight. However, it 
was acknowledged, that she kept a fii-m seat, 
even v/hen the horse went at his deepest rate ; 
and that she wanted nothing but to ride with a 
curb-bridle. When she came to dismoxmt, 
Shakspeare and Milton very kindly offered their 
hand to help her down, which she accepted. 
Then Euterpe came up to her w^ith a smile, and 
begged her to repeat those beautiful lines against 
melancholy, which (she said) were so extremely 
picturesque. The Dutchess, with a most pleas- 
ing air, immediately began — 



Dull melancholy 

She'll make you start at every noise you hear. 
And visions strange shall to your eyes appear. 



Her voice is low, and gives a hollow sound ; 

She hates the light, and is in darkness found ; 

Or sits by blinking lamps, or tapers small, 

AVhich various shadows make against the wall. 

She loves nought else, but noise which discord makes : 

As croaking frogs, whose dwelling is in lakes ; 

The raven hoarse, the mandrake's hollow groan. 

And shrieking owls, that fly i' th' night alone ; 

The tolling bell, which for the dead rings out ; 

A mill, where rushing waters run about. 

She loves to walk in the still moon-shine night, 

And in a thick dark grove she takes delight ; 

In hollow caves, thatch 'd houses, and low cells. 

She loves to live, and there alone she dwells. 

There leave her to herself alone to dwell, « 

While you and I in mirth and pleasure swell. 

All the while that these lines were repeating, 
Milton seemed very much chagrined ; and it 
was whispered by some, that he was obliged for 
many of the thoughts in his L' Allegro and II 
Penseroso to tliis lady's * Dialogue between 
Mirth and Melancholy. 

The celebrated Orinda, Mrs. Katherine Phi- 
lips, was next placed in the saddle, amid the 
shouts and applauses of the Lords Roscommon 
and OiTery, Cowley, and other famoiis wits of 
her time. Her di-ess was simple, though of a 
very elegant make : it had no profuse ornaments, 
and approached very nearly to the cut and 
fashion of the present age. Though she never 
ventured beyond a canter or a hand-galloi), she 
made Pegasus do his paces with so much ease 
and exactness, that Waller himself owned he 
could never bring him under so much command. 
After her Mrs. Killigrew, assisted by Dryden, 
and several other ladies of that age took their 
turns to ride : and every one agi'eed, that (mak- 
ing some allowance for theii* sex) they could not 
be excelled by the most experience(i riders among 
the men. 

A bold masculine figure now pushed forwaid 
in a thin, airy, gay habit, which hung so loose 
about her, that she appeared to be half undress- 
ed. WTien she came up to Pegasus, she clapped 
her hand upon the side saddle, and with a spring 
leaped across it, saying she should never ride 
him but astride. She made the poor beast frisk 
and caper, and curvet, and play a thousand 
tricks, while she herself was quite imconcerned, 
though she showed her legs at every motion of 
the horse, and many of the Muses turned their 
heads aside blushing. Thalia, indeed, was a 
good deal pleased with her frolic ; and Erato de- 
clared, that next to her favourite Sappho she 
should always prefer this lady. Upon inquir- 
ing her name, I found her to be the free-spirited 
]Mrs. Behn. When she was to dismoimt, Lord 
Rochester came up, and caught her in his arms ; 
and repeating part of her f Ode to Desire, 



* Poems by Eminent Ladies. Vol. II. page 199. 
N. B. This lady, it is supposed, wrote before Milton 
t Poems by Eminent Ladies. Vol, I. page 167. , 



120 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 70. 



To a myrtle bower 

He led her nothing loth. Milton. 

I had now the pleasure to see many ladies of 
our own times, whose names I was very well 
acquainted with, advance towards Pegasus. 
Among the rest 1 could not but wonder at the 
astonishing dexterity, with which the admired 
Mrs. Leapor of Brackley guided the horse, 
though she had not the least assistance from any 
body. Mrs. Barber of Ireland was assisted in 
getting upon the saddle by Swift himself, who 
even condescended to hold the stirrup while she 
mounted. Under the Dean's direction she made 
the horse to pace and amble very prettily ; not- 
withstanding which some declared that she was 
not equal to her friend and country-woman 
Mrs. Grierson. 

Another lady, a native of the same kingdom, 
then briskly stepped up to Pegasus, and despis- 
ing the weak efforts of her husband to prevent 
her, she boldly jumped into the saddle, and 
whipping and cutting rode away furiously bel- 
ter skelter over hedge and ditch, and trampled 
on every body who came in her road. She took 
particular delight in driving the poor horse, who 
kicked and winced all the while, into the most 
filthy places ; where she made him fling about 
the dirt and mire, with which she bespattered 
almost every one that came near her. Some- 
times, however, she would put a stop to this mad 
career ; and then she plainly convinced us, that 
she knew as well how to manage Pegasus as any 
of the females, who had tried before her. Being 
told that this lady was no other than the cele- 
brated biographer of her own actions Mrs. Pil- 
kington, I had the curiosity to take a nearer view 
of her ; when stepping up towards her, and of- 
fering my assistance to help her down, me- 
thought she returned my civility with such an 
uncourteous slap on the face, that (though I 
awaked at the instant) I could not help fancying 
for some time, that I felt my cheek tingle with 
the blow. W. 



No. 70.] Thursday, May 29, 1755. 



— Cansamhanc justam esse in animum inducife, 
Ui aliqua pars laboris minuatur mihi. Ter. 

Write, correspondents write, where'er you will ; 
'Twill save me trouble, and my paper fiU. 

My publisher having acquainted me, that he in- 
tends to close the volume with this nimiber, I 
shall take the opportunity to throw together sev- 
eral letters, which I have received in the coui'se 
of this work, and to balance with all my corres- 
pondents ; at the same time assuring them, that 
I should be very glad to open a fresh account 
with them in my next volume. * 

* This alludes to the division of volumes in tlic second 
edition of this work. 



In the infancy of this undertaking I was hon- 
oured with a verj'- kind billet from a brother of 
the quill ; the terms of which I am sorry it was 
not in my power to comply with. It was as 
follows : 

Dear Sir, 
I can be of great assistance to you, if you 
want any help. I will write for you every 
other week, or oftener if you choose it. As a 
specimen of my powers, I have sent you an es- 
say, which is at your service. It is short, but a 
very good one. Yours at command, 

T. Turnpenny. 
P. S. Please to send by the bearer a guinea. 

The contents of the postcript I naturally re- 
ferred to the considei-ation of my publisher, who 
consequently had a right to determine on the 
goodness of my friend's essay: but, whatever 
was the reason, I heard no more of it. The 
commerce between bookseller and author is, in- 
deed, of very great service, especially to the lat- 
ter : for though I myself must imdoubtedly be 
excepted out of the number, yet it must be con- 
fessed, that the most famous wits have owed 
their support to this pecuniary intercourse. 
Meat and di-ink, and the other conveniences of 
life, are as necessary to an author as pen, ink, 
and paper ; and I remember to have seen in the 
possession of IMr. Tonson a curious manuscript 
of the great Dryden himself, wherein he peti- 
tions his bookseller to advance a sum of money 
to his tailor. 

The next letter comes likewise from an au- 
thor, who complains of an evil, which does not, 
indeed, often affect many of our fraternity ! I 
mean the custom of giving money to servants. 

Dear IMr. Town, 

I have been happy all this winter in having 
the run of a nobleman's table, who was pleased 
to patronise a work of mine, and to wliich he 
allowed me the honour of prefixing his name 
in a dedication. We geniuses have spirit, you 
know, far beyond our pockets ; and (besides the 
extraordinary expense of new clothes to appear 
decent) I assure you I have laid out every far- 
thing, that I ever received from "his lordship's 
bounty, in tips to his servants. After every dinner 
I was forced to run tlie gauntlet throxigh a long 
line of powdered pickpockets ; and could not but 
look upon it as a very ridiculous circumstance, 
that I should be obliged to give money to a fel 
low wlio was dressed much finer than myself. 
In such a case, I am apt to consider the sliowy 
waistcoat of a foppish footman or butler out of 
livery, as laced down with the shillings and half- 
crowns of the guests. 

I would therefore beg of you, Mr. Town, to 
recommend the poor author's case to the consi- 
deration of the gentlemen of the cloth ; humbly 



No. 70..] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



121 



praying, that they would be pleased to let lis go 
scot-free as ^vell as the clergy : for though a good 
meal is in truth a A-ery comfortable thing to us, 
it is enough to blunt the edge of our appetites^ to 
consider that we must afterwards pay so dear 
for our ordinary. 

I am, Sir, 

Your humble Servant, 
Jeffery Bareboxes, 

By some of my papers I find I have drawn 
upon me the censure, not only of the free-think- 
ers, but of the 3Ioi-avians, Methodists, and 
other numerous sectaries, which have lately start- 
ed up in opposition to om* established religion. 
Tlie following letter occasioned by my sixty-first 
number, beai's about it so many marks of an ori- 
ginal, that it certainly comes from one of their 
teachers, who (as his style smells so much of the 
craft) is undoubtedly some inspired shoemaker, 
or enlightened bricklayer. I have therefore 
printed it without any alteration, except in the 
spelling. 

3IR. COXXOISSEUR. 

I have taken the pains, as usual, to read your 
paper, and as you receive letters, I thought pro- 
per, among the rest, to send one also, to let you 
know, that I did not know that a cat was capa- 
ble of constituting a religious society before. A 
priest may, it is true ; and so may another 
rational creature, and perhaps an old woman 
also. But, Sh", you argue, that what a French 
fool or lunatic says on this head, is true ; but you 
make more out, I observe, from the old woman 
and the leathern apron, than you do of the cat. 
For, if old women will, or do constitute a reli- 
gious society, I understand fi'om the foundation 
you seem to argue, that you are as much an old 
woman as they. For to argue or reason from 
an eld woman's story, and for all your learning, 
and policy, and cunningness, and judgment you 
seem to have, you have but little of yourself : 
and as you seem to ridicule religion, and com- 
pare it to atheism or lunacy, I would beg the 
favour to know Sir, what religion you are of : 
but by your talk, I fear you ai"e of none at all. 

This new doctrine. Sir, that you revile, is the 
real gospel, which you will find so, if you hear 
it, and compare it with the scriptiares, if you 
believe any scripture at all. For you say, Sir, 
that the most extraordinary tenets of religion 
are A-ery successfully propagated rmder the sanc- 
tion of leathern aprons instead of cassocks. 
Well, and suppose it is : you acknowledge it is 
received by well-disposed people ; and if it is, 
then it is plain you ridicule it, you are not one of 
tJiese well-disposed. But, Sir, this new doc- 
trine, as you call it, is not only propagated under 
the sanction of leathern aprons, by barbers, 
bricklayers, and the like, but by many of the 



clergy now in the established chiurh : and if you 
often went to hear them, but not as a critic to 
cai*p at what is there spoken, you would imder- 
stand more what this new doctrine meant, and 
whether it drives men to enthusiasm, and the 
like, or no. 

Sir, what you touch on the iMoravians, I wiU 
not say any thing about or against ; for perhaps 
it is too true. But, Su-, I would advise you to 
know a little more of religion experimentally 
for yourself, before you pretend to condemn 
others. And, Sir, if you are informed, that 
there will be a mad-house built on the ground 
Avhere the Foundei*y stands, or the 31ethodists' 
3Ieeting-house, as you call it, perhaps there may 
be as many criticising lunatics in it, as religious 
ones ; and very likely more. Sir, I beg you 
would take cai'e you don't bother your brains 
too much about other people's aifairs, lest I 
should have the pain, not the pleasure, of seeing 
you there. 

I have just given you a sketch of the ridicul- 
ing the new doctrine, and wish you could find 
some better employ, if so be it "was with a leath- 
ern apron before you ; for I think it would be- 
come you better than this point does. Sir, I 
hope you vrill excuse my fi'eedom with you, as 
others must yours with them. 

Your humble Servant, 

Wish kg Harm. 

The last letter, which I shall add, comes fi'om 
an unknown correspondent, w^ho has ali'eady 
obliged me more than once, if I may judge from 
the hand- writing. 

Sir, 

Some time ago you archly remarked, that 
there was not one woman left, but that the 
whole sex was elevated into ladies. You might 
at the same time have taken notice of the won- 
derful increase among the other sex in the order 
of gentlemen. 

Besides those who are universally acknow- 
ledged of this rank from their birth and situa- 
tion in life, the courtesy of England also enti- 
tles all persons who carry arms to that dignity ; 
so that his Majesty's three regiments of guards 
are composed entirely of gentlemen ; and every 
priggish fellow, who can clap a queue to his 
peruke, and hang a s"word a^vkwardly dangling 
by his side, from thence assumes the importance 
as weU as name of a gentleman. Idleness and 
ignorance being too often the disgrace of those 
who are gentlemen born and bred, many invest 
themselves with that dignity, though with no 
other qualifications. If the pride, poverty, or 
neglect of parents, has prevented their son from 
being bound 'prentice, or if the idle rascal has 
shown his indentures a light pair of heels, in 
either case Tom is of no trade and consequently 
a gentleman. I know at'this time a man, who 
R 



122 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 71, 



came from Ireland last summer witli a hayfork, 
but before winter raised himself to the rank of 
a gentleman : and every day I go to Windmill- 
street, I see a very honourable gentleman betting 
large sums of money, whom I formerly remem- 
ber Marker of the Tennis court. Add to this, 
that all attorneys' clerks, 'prentices, and the like, 
are gentlemen every evening ; and the citizen, 
(who drudges all the rest of the week behind 
the counter) every Sunday, together with his 
laced waistcoat and ruffles, puts on the gentle- 
man. Every author, IVIr. Town, is a gentle- 
man, if not an esquire, by his profession ; and 
all the players, from King Richard to the Lieu- 
tenant of the Tower, are gentlemen. 

The body of gentlemen is still more numer- 
ous ; but I have not leisure at present to climb 
up to garrets, or dive into cellars after them : 
I shall only observe, that many of the above 
mentioned members of this order die with the 
same reputation that they lived, and go out of 
the woi-ld like Squire Maclean, or Gentleman 
Harry. 

Your humble Servant, &c. 

*^.* Befoi'e I dismiss this new edition of my 
works, I think it my duty to return thanks to 
my kind readers for their candid reception of 
these Papers, as they were separately published, 
though 1 cannot but be sensible, that either 
through haste, inadvertence, or other avoca- 
tions, they unavoidably abounded with many 
faults, from which 1 have endeavoured to clear 
them as much as possible in their present form. 
Mr. Faulkner of Dublin is very welcome, there- 
fore, to his Irish edition, printed literatim from 
my folio ; and in which, I dare say, the very 
errors of the press are most religiously preserved. 

I cannot but regret, indeed, that there is still 
wanting one principal ornament to these little 
volumes: I mean the dedication. Not that 
there are wanting persons highly deserving of 
all the pi'aises which the most obsequious and 
most devoted author could possibly lavish on 
them : for in all ages, and in all nations, these 
have always abounded. Latin authors, for ex- 
ample, have never failed to pay their compli- 
ments to the illustrious family of the Issimi ; 
such as the laudatissimi, the emiyientissimi, the com- 
mendaiissinii, the famigo-atissimi, the doctissiini, 
the nobilisdmi, S^-c. and among our own writers 
no less respect has been shown to the numerous 
race of the most famous, the most ingenious, 
the most learned, the most eminent, &c. It is 
but justice that those who ofter the incense 
should "live by the altar." Yet, notwith- 
standing I gave notice to any rich citizen, no- 
bleman, or others, that my dedication should be 
disposed of to the best bidder, I have received 
no overtures on that head. In the city this 
course of exchange has not yet been established ; 
and among people of quality, the market has 



been over-stocked, and flattery is become a 
mere drug ; while some of them, who have 
taken up the trade themselves, have, perhaps, 
considered me as a rival or interloper in the 
business. 

It remains only, to give an account of the au- 
thors concerned in this work. I am sorry that 
I do not know the names of any of the volun- 
teers, to whom I have been greatly indebted : 
and as to those who have engaged for the 
drudgery of the Aveck, various conjectures have 
been formed about them. Some are sure, that 
the papers signed T. arc written by Mr. Such- 
a-one,— because it is the first letter of his name ; 
and others, by another, — because it is not : O is 

the mark of the Honourable , or Lord 

; they know it by the style : and W 

must be the work of a certain famous wit, and 
no other, — Aut Erasmus, AuL Diabolus. But to 
put the matter out of all doubt, and to satisfy 
the curiosity of my i-eaders, all I am at liberty 
at present to divulge is, that none of the papers 
(to my knowledge) were written by the Hon- 
ourable , or Lord , or , 

Esquire ; but.that those which are marked with 
a T, and those with an O, and those with a W, 
(as well as those which hereafter may perhaps 
be signed N,) are furnished by the ingenious 
and learned gentleman, who has subscribed his 
name to this paper. T, O, "\V, N. 



No. 71.] Thursday, June 5, 1755. 



Est bi-cvitate opus, ut cimat senfentia, vcu se 
hnpcdiat verbis lassas onerantibus aurcs : 
Et scrmone opus est, modo iristi, scrpe jocose. 



HOR. 



I write as I would talk ; am short and clear ; 
Not clogg'd with words that load the wearied ear 1 
A grave, dull essay now and then goes dowji j 
But folks expect to laugh with Mr. Town. 

Ajioxg the several degrees of authors, there arc 
none, perhaps, who have more obstacles to sur- 
mount at their setting out, than the writers of 
periodical essays. Talk with a modern critic, 
and he will toll you, that a new paper is a vain 
attempt after the inimitable Spectator and 
others ; that all the proper subjects are already 
pre-occupied, and that it is equally impossible to 
find out a new field for observation, as to dis- 
cover a new world. With these prejudices the 
public are prepared to receive us; and while 
they expect to be cloyed with the stale repetition 
of the same fare, though tossed up in a different 
manner, they sit down with but little relish for 
the entertainment. 

That the Spectator first led the way, roust 
undoubtedly be acknowledged : but that his fol- 
lowers must for that reason be always supposed 
to tread in his steps, can by no means be allow* 



No. 71.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



123 



ed. In the high road of life there ai*e several 
extensive walks, as well as bye-paths, which we 
may strike into, without the necessity of keep- 
ing the same beaten track with those that have 
gone before us. New objects for ridicule will 
continually present themselves; and even the 
same characters will appear different by being 
differently disposed, as in the same pack of cards, 
though ever so often shuffled, there will never 
be two hands exactly alike. 

After this introduction, I hope to be pardoned, 
if 1 indulge myself in speaking a word or two 
concerning my own endeavours to entertain the 
public. And first, whatever objections the reader 
may have had to the subjects of my papers, I 
shall make no apology for the manner in which 
I have chose to trer.t them. The dread of fall- 
ing into (what they are pleased to call) collo- 
quial barbarisms, has induced some unskilful 
writers to swell their bloated diction with un- 
couth phrases and the affected jargon of pedants. 
For my own part, I never go out of the com- 
mon way of expression, merely for the sake of 
introducing a more sounding word with a Latin 
termination. The English language is suffi- 
ciently copious and expressive without any fur- 
ther adoption of new terms ; and the native 
words seem to me to ha^-e far more force than 
any foreign auxiliaries, however pompously 
ushered in ; as British soldiers fight oui* battles 
better than the troops taken into our pay. 

The subjects of my essays have been chiefly 
such as I thought might recommend themselves 
to the public notice by being new and uncom- 
mon. For this reason I purposely avoided the 
worn-out practice of retailing scraps of morality, 
and affectmg to dogmatize on the common duties 
of life. In this point, indeed, the Spectator is 
inimitable ; nor could I hope to say any thing 
new upon these topics after so many excellent 
moral and religious essays, which are the prin- 
cipal ornament of that work. I have therefore 
contented myself with exposing vice and folly 
by painting mankind in their natural colours, 
without assuming the rigid air of a preacher, or 
the moroseness of a philosopher. I have rather 
chose to undermine our fashionable excesses by 
secret sapping, than to storm them by open 
assault. In a word, upon all occasions I have 
endeavoured to laugh people into a better beha- 
viour : as I am convinced, that the sting of re- 
proof is not less sharp for being concealed ; and 
advice never comes with a better face, than Avhen 
it comes with a laughing one. 

Thei'e are some points in the course of this 
work, which perhaps might have been treated 
with a more serious air. I have thought it my 
duty to take every opportunity of exposing the 
absurd tenets of our modern Free-thinkers and 
Knthusiasts. The Enthusiast is, indeed, much 
more difficult to cure than the Free-thinker ; 
because the latter, with all liis bravery, cannot 



but be conscious that he is wrong ; whereas the 
former may have deceived himself into a belief, 
that he is certainly in the right ; and the more 
he is opposed, the more he considers himself as 
"patiently suffering for the truth's sake." 
Ignorance is too stubborn to yield to conviction : 
and on the other hand those, whom " a little 
learning has made mad," are too proud and self- 
sufficient to hearken to the sober voice of reason. 
The only way left us, therefore, is to root out 
superstition, by making its followers ashamed, of 
themselves : and as for our Free-thinkers, it is 
but right to tui-n their boasted weapons of ridi- 
cule against them ; and as they themselves 
endeavour to banter others out of every serious 
and virtuous notion, we too (in the language of 
the psalmist) should "laugh them to scorn, 
and have them in derision." 

It is with infinite pleasure, that I find myself 
so much encouraged to continue my labours, by 
the kind reception which they have hitherto met 
with from the public : and Mr. Baldwin, with 
no less pleasure, infonns me, that as there are 
but few numbers left of the folio edition, he in- 
tends to collect them into two pocket volumes. 
The reader cannot conceive, how much I already 
pride mj'^elf on the charming figure, which my 
works will make in this new form : and I shall 
endeavour to render these volumes as complete 
as I possibly can, by several considerable addi- 
tions and amendments. Though contracted 
into the small space of a twelves volume, I still 
hope to maintain my former dignity ; like the 
devils in Milton's Pandaemonium. 

To smallest forms 



Reduced theii shapes immense, and were at large. ■*. 

The Spectator has very elegantly compared 
his single papers, as they came out, to " chen-ies 
on a stick," of the dearness of which the pur- 
chasers cannot complain, who are willing to 
gratify their taste v/'iih choice fruit at its earliest 
production. I have considered my own papers 
as so many flowers, which joined together, 
would make up a pretty nosegay ; and though 
each of them, singly taken, may not be equally 
admired for their odours, they may receive an 
additional fragi-ance by a happy union of their 
sweets. 

The learned decor&tion in the front of my 
papers, though perhaps it has sometimes put my 
scholarship to a stand, I could by no means dis- 
pense Avith : for such is the prevalence of cus- 
tom, that the m.ost finished essay without a 
motto would appear to many people as maimed 
and imperfect, as a beautiful face without a nose. 
But custom has imposed upon us a new task of 
giving translations to these mottos : and it has 
been the usual method to copy them promiscu- 
ously from Dryden to Francis ; though (as 
Donham has remarked of translation in general) 
" the spirit of the original is evaporated in the 



124 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 72. 



transfusion, and nothing is left behind but a 
mere caimt mortuum." A motto, as it stands in 
the original, may be very apposite to the subject 
of the essay, though nothing to the purpose in 
the common translation ; and it frequently de- 
rives all its elegance fi'om a humorous applica- 
tion in a diffei-ent sense to what it bears in the 
author, but of which, not the least trace can 
appear in the version. For this reason, I have 
determined to give entire new translations, or 
rather imitations, of all the mottos and quota- 
tions, adapted to the present times. And these, 
I flatter myself, will reflect an additional beauty 
on my work ; as some of them admit of epi- 
grammatic turns, ^vhile others aff"ord room for 
lively and picturesque allusions to modern man- 
ners. In this dress, they wOl at least appear 
more of a piece with the essays themselves ; and 
not like the patch- work of random translations. 
In the mean time, I shall only add, that if any 
nobleman, gentleman, or rich citizen, is ambi- 
tious to have his name prefixed to either of these 
volumes, he is desired to send in proposals, to- 
gether with a list of his virtues and good quali- 
ties, to the publisher ; and the dedications shall 
be disposed of to the best bidder. 
*^,* None but principals will be treated with. 

T. 



No. 72.] Thursday, June 12, 1755. 



Versus inopes rerum nugceque canorce. Hor. 

What though our songs to wit have no pretence, 
The fiddle stick shall scrape them into sense. 

The managers of our public gardens, willing to 
make their summer diversions as complete as 
possible, are not content with laying out beau- 
tiful Avalks, and providing an excellent band of 
music, but are also at much expense to amuse us 
with the old English entertainment of ballad- 
singing. For this end, they not only retain the 
best voices that can be procured, but each of 
them also has a poet in ordinary, who is allow- 
ed a stated salary, and the run of the gardens. 
The productions of these petty laureats naturally 
come within my notice as critic : and, indeed, 
whether I am at VauxhalJ, Ranelagh, Mary- 
bone, or even Sadler's Wells, I indulge myself 
in many remarks on the poetry of the place ; 
and am as attentive to the songs as to the cas- 
cade, the fire-works, or Miss Isabella Wilkin- 
son. 

Ballads seem peculiary adapted to the genius 
of our people ; and are a species of composition, 
in which we are superior to all other nations. 
Many of our ol<l English songs have in them an 
afl^ecting simplicity ; and it is remarkable, that 
our best writers have not been ashamed to cul- 
tivate this branch of poetry. Cowley, Waller, 
Roscommon, Rowe, Gay, Prior, and many 



others, have left behind them A'ery elegant bal- 
lads : but it must be confessed, to the honour of 
the present age, that it was reserved for our mo- 
dern writers to bring this kind of poetry to per- 
fection. Song-AiTiting is now reduced to certain 
rules of art ; and the ballad-maker goes to work 
by a method as regular and mechanical, as a car- 
penter or a blacksmith. 

Swift, in his Voyage to Laputa, describes a 
machine to write books in all arts and sciences : 
I have also read of a mill to make verses ; and 
remember to have seen a curious table, by the 
assistance of which the most illiterate might 
amuse themselves in composing hexameters and 
pentameters in Latin : inventions wonderfully 
calculated for the promotion of literature. 
Whatever gentlemen of Grub-street or others 
are ambitious to enlist themselves as hackney 
sonnetteers are desired to attend to the follow- 
ing rules, drawn from the practice of our mo- 
dern song writers ; a set of geniuses excellent in 
their manner, and avIio will probably be here- 
after as much known and admired as garden- 
poets, as the celebrated Taylor is now famous 
under the denomination of water-poet. 

I must beg leave positively to contradict any 
reports, insinuating that our ballad makers are 
in possession of such a machine, mill, or table, 
as aboA'e mentioned : and believe it to be equally 
false, that it is their practice to hustle certain 
quaint tei'ms and phrases together in a hat, and 
take them out at random. It has, indeed, been 
assei'ted on some just gi'ound, that their pro- 
ductions ai'e totally void of sense and expression, 
that they have little rhjnne and less reason, 
and that they are, from beginning to end, no- 
thing more than nonsensical rhapsodies to a new 
tune. This charge I do not mean to deny : 
though I cannot but lament the deplorable want 
of taste, that mentions it as a fault. For it is 
this very circumstance, which I, wlio am pro- 
fessedly a Connoisseur, particularly admire. It 
is a received maxim with all composers of music 
that nothing is so melodious as nonsense. Man- 
ly sense is too harsh and stubborn to go through 
the numberless divisions and sub-divisions of 
mo<lern music, and to be trilled forth in crotchets 
and demiquavers. Fur this? reason, thought is 
so cautiously sprinkled over a modern song ; 
which it is the business of the singer to wai-ble 
into sentiment. 

Our ballad-makers for the most part slide into 
the familiar style, and affect that easy manner of 
wilting which (according to Wycherly) is easily 
written. Seeing the dangerous consequence of 
meaning, in words adapted to music, they are 
very frugal of sentiment : and indeed they hus- 
band it so well, that the same thoughts are 
adapted to every song. The only variation re- 
quisite in twenty ballads is, that the last line of 
the stanza be different. In this ingenious Une 
the wit of the whole song consists ; and the au- 



No. 73.J 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



125 



tUor, whethei' he shall die if he has not the lass 
of the mill, or deserves to be reckoned an ass, 
turns over his dictionai'y of rhymes for words of 
a similar sound, and every verse jingles to the 
same word, with aU the agreeable variety of a 
set of bells eternally ringing the same peal. 

The authors of love songs formerly wasted a 
great deal of poetry in illustrating their own 
passion and the beauty of their mistress ; but 
our modern poets content themselves with fall- 
ing in love with her name. There cannot be a 
greater misfortune to one of these rhymers than 
a mistress with a hard name : such a misfortune 
sends them all over the world, and makes them 
run through all arts, sciences, and languages for 
con-espondent terms ; and after all, pei'haps the 
name is so harsh and untractable, that our poet 
has as much difiiculty to bring it into vei'se, as 
the celebrators of the Duke of Marlborough 
were puzzled to reduce to rhyme the uncouth 
names of the Dutch towns taken in Queen 
Anne's wars. Valentine, in Love for Love, 
when he talks of turning poet, orders Jeremy to 
get the maids together of an evening to Crambo : 
no contemptible hint to our ballad-makers, and 
which, if properly made use of, would be of as 
much service to them as Byshe's Art of Poetry. 

Fearing lest this method of song-writing 
should one day grow obsolete, in order to pre- 
serve to posterity some idea of it, I have put to- 
gether the following dialogue as a specimen of 
the modern manner. I must, however, be in- 
genuous enough to confess, that 1 can claim no 
further merit in this elegant piece than that of 
compiler. It is a cento from our most celebrat- 
ed new songs; from which I have carefully 
culled all the sweetest flowers of poetry, and 
bound them up together. As all the lines are 
taken from different songs set to different tunes, 
I would humbly propose, that this curious per- 
formance should be sung jointly by all the best 
voices, in the manner of a Dutch concert, where 
evei'y man sings his own tune. I had once 
some thoughts of affixing marginal references to 
each line, to inform the reader by note, at what 
place the song, whence it is taken, was first 
sung. But I shall spare myself that trouble by 
desiring the reader to look on the whole piece as 
arising from a coalition of our most eminent 
song-writers at Vauxhall, Ranelagh, Marybone, 
and Sadler's Wells: assuring him, that this 
short dialogue contains the pith and marrow, or 
rather (to borrow an expression from the Fine 
Lady in Lethe) the quinsetence and emptity of 
all our modern songs. 

A PASTORAL DIALOGUE, 

BETWEEN 
CORYDON AND SUSAN. 
Sus. Ah ! whither so fast would my Corydon go ? 

Step in, you've nothing else to do. 
Cvr. They say I'm in love, but I answer no no ; 
So I wish I may die if I do. 



Once my heart play'd a tune that went pitty pattie. 

And I sigh 'd but I could not tell why. 
Now let what will happen, by Jove I'll be free. 
Sus. O fie, shepherd, fie, shepherd, fie. 

Cor. Though you bid me begone back again. 
Yet, Sukey, no matter for that, 
The women love kissing as well as the men. 
Sus. Why, what a pox would you be at ? 

You told me a tale of a cock and a bull ; 
Upon my word he did. 



Cor. 
Sm. 



I swear I meant nothing but playing the fool 
Very fine ! very pretty indeed ! 



Cor. Come, come, my dear Sukey, to church let us go; 

No more let your answer be no. 
Sus. The deuce sure is in him to plague a maid so : 

I cannot deny you, you know. , 

CHORUS BY BOTH. 

No courtiers can be so happy as we. 
Who bill like the sparrow and dove. 

I love Sue, and Sue loves me. 
Sure this is mutual love. 



No. 73.] Thursdat, June 19, 1755. 



-Secernere saa-a profanis. 



HOR. 



Wherever God erects a house of prayer, 

The devil always has a chapel there. Defoe. 

Walking the other day in W^estminster Abbey, 
among the many ostentatious monuments erect- 
ed to kings and warriors, I could not help ob- 
serving a little stone, on which was this pom- 
pous inscription — Eterncs memo7-ice sacrum — Sa- 
cred to the eternal memory of . The name 

of the person to whom immortality was thus 
secured, is almost obliterated ; and perhaps, 
when alive, he was little known, and soon for- 
got by the small circle of his friends and ac- 
quaintance. 

1 have been used to look upon epitaphs as a 
kind of flattering dedications to the dead ; in 
which is set down a long catalogue of virtues, 
that nobody knew they were possessed of while 
living, and not a word of their vices or follies. 
The veracity of these posthumous encomiums 
may, indeed, be fairly suspected, as we are gen- 
erally told, that the disconsolate widow, or 
weeping son, erected the monument in testimo- 
ny of their afiliction for the loss of the kindest 
hasband, or most affectionate father. But what 
dowager, who enjoys a comfortable jointure by 
her good man's decease, would refuse to set her 
hand to it on his tomb-stone, that he was the 
best of husbands, though perhaps they had parted 
beds? or what heir Vi^ould be so base and ungrate- 
ful, as not to give a iew good words to a crabbed 
parent after his death, in return for his estate. 

By the extravagant praises which are indis- 
criminately lavished on the ashes of every person 



126 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 73. 



alike, wc entirely pervert the original intent of 
epitaphs, which were contrived to do honour and 
justice to the virtuous and the good. But by 
the present practice the reputations of men are 
equally confounded with their dust in the grave, 
where there is no distinction between the good 
and the bad. The law has appointed seai'chors 
to inquire, when any one dies, into the cause of 
his death ; in the same manner I could wish, 
that searchers were appointed to examine into 
his way of living, before a character be given of 
him upon the tomb-stone. 

The flatteries that are paid to the deceased are 
undoubtedly owing to the pride of their survi- 
vors, which is the same among the lowest as the 
highest set of people. When an obscure grocer or 
tallow-chandler dies at his lodgings at Islington, 
the newspapers are stuffed with the same parade 
of his virtues and good qualities, as when a duke 
goes out of the world ; and the petty overseer of 
a little hamlet has a painted board stuck up at 
the end of his wickei'ed turf, with a distich set- 
ting forth the godliness of his life, in humble 
imitation of the nobleman, who reposes under a 
grand mausoleum erected to his memory, with 
a long list of his titles and heroic deeds. 

The great, indeed, have found means to sepa- 
rate themselves even in their graves from the vul- 
gar, by having their ashes deposited in chuixhes 
and cathedrals, and covered by the most superb 
monuments; but the false pomp of the monument, 
as well as the gross flattery of the inscription, 
often tends only to make the deceased ridiculous. 
In my late visit to Westminster Abbtfr, I could 
not but remark the difference of taste which has 
prevailed in setting up these edifices for the dead. 
In former times, it was thought sufficient to 
clap up the bust or statue of the deceased, set 
round, perhaps, with the emblems of their me- 
rits, their employment, or station of life. Thus, 
if any lady was remarkable for her virtue and 
piety, it was pointed out by two or three little 
chubby-faced cherubims, crying for her death, 
or holding a crown over her head. The war- 
rior was spread along in full length, in a com- 
plete suit of armour, with the trophies of war 
hung round about him : and the bishop was laid 
flat upon his back, with his coifed head rest- 
ing on a stone Bible, and his hands joined to- 
gether in the posture of praying. 

If Socrates, or any other of the ancient idnlo- 
sophers, could revive again, and be admitted 
into Westminster Abbey, he would now be 
induced to fancy himself in a pantheon. The 
modej'u taste, not content with introducing Ro- 
man temples into our churches, and represent- 
ing the virtues under allegorical images, has 
ransacked all the fabulous accounts of the hea- 
then theology to strike out new embellishments 
for our Christian monuments. We are not in 
the least surprised to see IMercury attending the 
tomb of an orator, and Pallas or Hercules sup- 



porting that of a wanior. If there is not a stop 
l)ut to this taste, we may soon expect to see our 
churches, instead of being dedicated to the ser- 
vice of religion, set apart for the recei)tion of the 
heathen gods. A deceased admiral will be re- 
presented like Neptune, with a trident in his 
hand, drawn in a shell by dolphins, preceded by 
tritons, and followed by nereids, lashing the 
marble waves with their tails. A gejieral will 
be habited like Mars, bearing a helmet and 
spear in polished stone ; and a celebrated 
toast will be stuck up naked, like the Venus dc 
Medicis, cut in alabaster. Our])ious forefathers 
were content with exhibiting to us the usual 
emblems of death, the hour-glass, the skull, and 
the cross marrow-bones. These emblems, if 
not very elegant, were at least not indecent ; 
but now the Three Fatal Sisters, mentioned in 
the heathen mythology, must be introduced 
spinning, drawing, and cutting the thread of 
life. Could one of the last century see a winged 
figure blowing the trumpet on the top of a mo- 
dern monument, he would be apt to mistake it 
for an archangel, and be naturally put in mind 
of that awful time, 'when the trumpet shall 
sound, and the dead shall rise.' But the design, 
we are told, is very different; and this winged 
messenger is no other than the ancient person- 
age of Fame, who is proclaiming the virtues of 
the defunct round the world. 

It has been recommended, on a different ac- 
count, to have a separate place, distinct from our 
churches, for the reception of our monuments. I 
could wish to see such a scheme put in execution : 
for the present absurd mixture of the several 
objects of Pagan and Christian belief, as repi-e- 
sented on the tombs lately set up in compliance 
with the modern taste, must be shocking to 
every serious beholder. Should any one pro- 
pose to take down from St. Paul's cathedrid 
those paintings of Sir James Thornhni rej)re- 
senthig the transactions of St. Paul, and in 
their place to set up Titian's pictures of the 
amours of the heathen gods and goddesses, every 
one would be shocked at the impiety of the pro- 
posal. But the fashion of introducing heathen 
deities into our monuments is not much less ab- 
surd ; and as INIilton has been blamed for his 
frequent allusions to the heathen theology in his 
sacred poem, surely we are more to be condemn- 
ed, for admitting the whole class of their ficti- 
tious deities into the house of God itseli'. A re- 
formation in this point is no less necessary, than 
from the Popish superstitions ; and these pro- 
fane images, though not the objects of our idola- 
try, have no more pretence to be set up in the 
Temple of the living Lord, than those of the 
canonized saints of the Roman Catholics. 

Modern taste is continually striking out new 
improvements. Wcmay therefore conclude, that 
when our statuaries have travelled through the 
ancient Pantheon, and c.\Laustod all the subjects 



No. 74.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



127 



of the Grecian and Roman mythology, we shall 
have recourse to the supei'stitions of other na- 
tions for the designs of our monuments. They 
will then probably be adorned with -Egyptian 
hierogljT)hics, and the tomb of some future hero 
may be built according to the model of the pro- 
phet's tomb at Mecca. It is not to be doubted, 
but that the Chinese taste, which has already 
taken possession of our gardens, our buildings, 
and our furniture, will also soon find its way 
into our churches : and hoAv elegant must a 
monument appear, which is erected in the Chi- 
nese taste, and embellished with dragons, bells, 
pagods, and mandarins. O. 



No. 74.] Thursdav, June 26, 1755. 



-Non ita ItomuU 



Prcescriptum et intonsi Cafonis 
AuspicUs, vetervmque noiTnS. 



HOR. 



Rome boasts her sons, a race of stubborn fools. 
To virtue train 'd by grey-beard Cato's rules. 
Such rigid pride our modest youth disclaim. 
Great in their crimes, and glorious in their shame. 

There is no method of reproof more in vogue, 
than the fashion of drawing invidious parallels 
between the present times and the past. The 
grumbling politician rails over his coffee at the 
present ministry, and reminds you, with a sigh, 
of the golden days of Queen Bess : while, in 
matters of less consequence, the critic shakes his 
head at Mr. Town, and mentions Bickerstaff. 
But the moralists are above all others devoted to 
this practice. These vt^ise gentlemen are conti- 
nually looking backAvards, and condemning what 
lies immediately before them by retrospect. 
They are for ever harping on this jarring chord, 
and have scarce more words in their mouths 
than the solemn sentences said to be delivered by 
Friar Bacon's Brazen Head, Time is — Time 
was — Time is past. 

No comparisons of this sort are so frequently 
repeated, and so much insisted on, as those 
drawn between the ancients and moderns. If 
an eloquent member of the House of Commons 
is cruelly suspected of bellowing for a place, 
nothing rings in his ears but Tully and Demos- 
thenes. If a gentleman, or perhaps a nobleman, 
with a heavy mortgage upon his estate, disen- 
cumbers it by selling his interest at a county 
election, he is immediately upbraided with one 
Roman, that was not ashamed to follow the 
plough tail, and another, who could refuse large 
bribes, and content himself with a cottage and 
turnips. If a lady makes an unfortunate slip, 
she is told again and again of Lucretia, and 
fifty other school-boy tales of honour and chas- 
tity. In a word, there is not one fashionable 
frailty, but has some stubborn antiquated virtue 



set in opposition to it ; and our unhappy metro- 
polis is every day threatened with destruction, 
for its degeneracy fi'om the rigid maxims of 
Rome or Sparta. 

In the midst of all these severe reflections, it 
gives me infinite pleasure, that I can with jus- 
tice take notice of the incontestable superiority 
of the moderns in point of modesty. The arro- 
gance of the ancients was so remarkable, tliat, 
in their idea of a perfect character they included 
every public and private virtue. They aimed at 
a strict observance of all the duties of life ; and 
if some old Romans had been styled gods while 
living, it would not have been such gross flat- 
tery as was afterwards practised in honouring 
the emperors with an Apotheosis. Their inflex- 
ible honesty was their perpetual boast, and their 
virtue was their pride. Tliis high idea of a 
perfect character among the ancients naturally 
m-ged them to lift themselves to an invidious 
superiority above the rest of the world : while 
the modest moderns, by taking all the vices, in- 
stead of the virtues, into their notion of a fine 
gentleman, endeavour to let themselves down to 
a level with the lowest of their species, and have 
laid the surest foundation for humility. Fine 
gentlemen are so far from being proud, that they 
are never guilty of any thing, which gives them 
the least reason to be so : and our fine ladies 
have none of the disgusting haughtiness of 
virtue, though indeed they are seldom known to 
be ashamed. 

It is impossible to devise any one method of 
lowering the good opinion a man might possibly 
conceiA'e of himself, that has not been put in 
practice. No fine gentleman ever aimed at ac- 
quiring any excellence ; and if any natiual per- 
fections might give some little occasion for pride, 
the greatest pains have been taken to destroy 
them. Good parts have been often drowned in 
taverns, and a strong constitution sweated away 
in bagnios ; and in the mean time learning has 
been totally neglected, lest improvement should 
bring on pedantry and literary pride. The most 
shining parts in the character of a fine gentle- 
man are, that he drinks deep, dresses genteelly, 
rides well, can shoe his own horse, and is pos- 
sessed of some other qualifications, which nobody 
can ever suspect, that a mind, the least given to 
ambition, would ever labour to acquire. For my 
part I am so far from agreeing with our satirist, 
that the love of fame is the universal passion, 
that when I observe the behaviour' of our fine 
gentlemen, I am apt to think it proceeds from 
the lowest and humblest turn of mind. Indeed, 
their singular modesty appears to me the only 
means of accounting for their actions, which 
commonly tend to place them in the meanest and 
most contemptible light. 

Nothing but this invincible modesty, and fear 
of seeming to aim at excellence, could ever 
give rise to certain habits, not only ridiculous, 



128 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 75. 



but ungraceful. Good eyes, for instance, are 
universally acknowledged to give lustre to the 
whole countenance; yet fashion and humility 
have blinded the whole town. The beau draws 
his eyes out of his pocket, and the beauties kill 
us through spying-glasses. It has been known 
to be the vogue for persons of fashion to lose 
the use of their legs, and limp along as if they 
were crippled : this practice I daily expect to be 
revived ; for I take it for granted, that the tall 
staves now carried about must naturally dwindle 
into crutches. An inarticulate lisp even now 
infects the delivery in polite conversation. It is 
not at all unfashionable to pretend deafness ; and 
unless the ladies object to it, I do not despair of 
seeing the time, when the whole modish world 
shall affect to be dumb. 

This humble way of thinking has been carried 
so far, that it has even introduced a new species 
of hypocrisy. Fine gentlemen, fearing lest 
their good qualities should in their own despite 
overbalance their bad ones, claim several vices, 
to which they have no title. There is something 
very admirable and ingenious in this disposition 
among our young people, who not only candidly 
discover all their frailties, but accuse themselves 
of faults, which they never intended to commit. 
I know a young fellow, who is almost every 
morning complaining of the head-ache, and 
cursing the last night's Champagne at the St. 
Alban's, when 1 am well assured he passed his 
evening very soberly with his maiden aunts in 
Cheapside. I am also acquainted with another 
gentleman, Avho is very fond of confessing his in- 
trigues, and often modestly takes shame to him- 
self for the great mischief he does among the 
women ; though I well know, he is too bashful 
even to make love to his laundress. He some- 
times laments publicly the unlucky consequen- 
ces of an amour, and has more than once, been 
discovered to send pill-boxes and gallipots di- 
rected for himself, to be left at the bar of neigh- 
bouring coffee-houses. The same humble turn 
of mind induces the frugal to appear extrava- 
gant ; and makes many a religious young fellow 
deny his principles, brave his conscience, and 
affect the character and conversation of an athe- 
ist. To say the truth, the generality of the gay 
world are arrant hypocrites in their vices, and 
appear to be worse than they really are. Many 
of our pretended bloods are, in fact, no more 
drunkards, whoremasters, or infidels, than a 
bully is a man of courage ; and are as little sin- 
cere in their boasts of vice, as statesmen or 
beauties in their mutual professions of friend- 
ship. 

That part of the female world, which com- 
poses the order of fine ladies, have as much hu- 
mility as their counterparts, the fine gentlemen. 
There is something so charming in the fair sex, 
that we should almost adore them, if they did 
not lay aside all the pride of reputation, and by 



some good-natured familiarities reduce them- 
selves to an equality with us. It is, indeed, 
wonderful to observe, with what diligence our 
polite ladies pare off the excellences from their 
characters. When we see them almost as naked 
as the Graces, it is natural to suppose them as 
warmly devoted to Venus ; and when we hear 
them talk loosely and encourage double mean- 
ing in conversation, we are apt to imagine their 
notions of honour not very strict or severe. But 
after all, this is frequently mere hypocrisy, and 
the effect of humility. Many a lady, very 
wanton in appearance, is in reality very modest ; 
and many a coquet has lost her reputation with- 
out losing her virtue. I make no doubt, but 
that several ladies of suspicious characters are 
not so bad as they seem, and that there are hon- 
ourable persons among the gayest of our women 
of quality. 

To return whence I set out, the extraordinary 
modesty of the moderns, so averse to the aiTo- 
gant pride of the ancients, claiming all virtues 
and good qualities whatsoever, is the only key to 
their behaviour. Vice, or at least the appear- 
ance of vice, becomes absolutely requisite to pass 
through the world with tolerable decency, and 
the character of a man of spirit. As Sir John 
Brute says, ' they were sneaking dogs, and afraid 
of being damned in those days;' but we are bet- 
ter informed, and fear nothing but the appear- 
ance of too much virtue. To secure the nobili- 
ty, gentry, and others from so shocking an im- 
putation, a friend of mine Avill speedily present 
the world with a curious piece, compiled from 
the practice and principles of the present times, 
entitled, A New Treatise on Ethics ; or a Sys- 
tem of Immoral Philosophy. In this work he 
has treated at large of modern modesty, shown 
the excellence and utility of immorality, and 
considered drinking, Avhoring, fighting, and 
gaming, as the four cardinal vices, or in other 
words, the principal constituents of bucks, 
bloods, and fine gentlemen. O, 



No. 7;i.] Thursday, JrLv 3, 1755. 



Kon ill corpus eras sine pec/ores. Ilf-B. 

Without a mind a man is but an ape, 
A mere brute body in a human shape. 



Good-nature is to the mind, what beauty is to 
the body ; and an agreeable disposition creates a 
love and esteem for us in the rest of mankind, 
as a handsome person recommends us to the 
good graces of the fair sex. It may be further 
observed, that any little defect in point of figure 
is sooner overlooked, than a sourness in the tem- 
per ; and we conceive f» more lasting disgust at a 



No. 75.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



129 



morose churlishness of manners, than at a hump- 
back or a pair of bandy legs. Good-nature is, 
indeed, so amiable a qualification, that every 
man would be thought to possess it : and the la- 
dies themselves would no more like to be ac- 
cused of a perverse turn of mind, than of an un- 
happy cast of features. Hence it proceeds, that 
those unfortunate stale virgins, usually called 
old maids, have both these heavy censures thrown 
upon them ; and are at once condemned as ugly 
and ill-natured- 
Some persons are (according to the strict im- 
port of the phrase itself) born good-natured. 
These fortunate people are easy in themselves, 
and agreeable to all about them. They are, as 
it were, constitutionally pleasing; and can no 
more fail of being affable and engaging in con- 
versation, than a Hamilton or a Coventry can 
be otherwise than beautiful or charming. Yet 
it is the duty even of those, who are naturally 
endowed " with the soft pai'ts of conversation," 
to be careful not to deprave or abuse them. They 
must not rely too confidently on their native 
sweetness of disposition : for we should no more 
esteem a man, who discovered a negligence of 
pleasing, than Ave should admire a beauty, who 
was an intolerable slattern. Nor on the other 
hand, should they let their good-nature run to 
an excess of compliment and extravagant civility ; 
for an engaging temper has been as often spoiled 
by this troublesome politeness, as a fine shape 
has been squeezed into frightful distortions by 
tight stays, and a fine complexion entirely ruin- 
ed by paint. 

But if this care is requisite even in those few, 
who are blessed with this native complacency 
and good humour, how necessary is it for the 
generality of mankind to labour at rectifying the 
irregularities in their temper ? For this purpose 
it would be fully sufficient, if they would em- 
ploy half the art to cultivate their minds, that 
is daily used to set off their persons. To this 
important end, not only the female delicacies of 
paint and essence are called in as auxiliaries to 
the embroidered suits and French perukes, but 
this anxiety to supply any personal defect has 
set the invention of artificers to work with so 
much earnestness, that there is scarce any exter- 
nal blemish, which may not be removed or con- 
cealed : and however unkindly nature may have 
dealt with you, you may by their assistance be 
made a model for a statuary, or a pattern for a 
painter to study. If you want an inch in height, 
your shoemaker can supply it : and your hosier 
can furnish you with a pair of calves, that may 
put an Irishman to the blush. An irregularity 
in your shape can be made invisible by your 
tailor, or at least by the artist near the Hay- 
market, who daily gives notice, that he makes 
steel stays for all those who are inclined to be 
crooked. There are various beautifying lotions 
and cosmetics, that will cure spots and freckles 



in the complexion ; and combs and unguents, that 
will change red hair to the finest brown. Do 
you Avant an eye ? Taylor w^ill fill the vacant 
socket with as bright a piercer, as the family of 
the Pentweazles can boast. Or is your mouth 
deficient for want of teeth ? Paul Jullion (to use 
his own phrase) will rectify your head, and will 
fix a set in your gums as even and as white as 
ever adorned the mouth of a chimney-sweeper. 
These, and many other inventions no less cu- 
rious and extraordinary, have been devised : and 
there are no operations, however painful, which 
have not been submitted to with patience to con- 
quer personal deformities. I know a gentleman, 
who went through the agony of having his leg 
broke a second time, because it had been set 
awry : and I remember a lady, who died of a 
cancer in her breast, occasioned by the applica- 
tion of repelling plasters to keep back her milk, 
that the beauty of her neck might not be des- 
troyed. I most heartily wish the same resolu- 
tion was discovered in improving the disposition. 
Tully, in that part of his Offices w^here he speaks 
of grace, tells us " that it is destroyed by any 
violent perturbations either of the body or mind." 
It is a pity that mankind cannot be reconciled ta 
this opinion ; since it is likely they Avould spare 
no pains in cultivating their minds, it it tended 
to adorn their persons. Yet it is certain, that a 
man makes a worse figure with an ignoi'ant. 
pate, than an unpowdered peruke ! and that 
knowledge is a gi'eater ornament to the head, 
than a bag or a smart cocked hat ; that anger 
sits like a blood-shot in the eyes, Avhile good na- 
ture lights them up with smiles, and makes every 
feature in the face charming and agreeable. 

The difficulty of being convinced that we 
want this social turn, is the grand reason that 
so little pains are taken to acquire and perfect it. 
Would a man once be persuaded of any irregu- 
larity in his temper, he Avould find the blemishes 
of the mind more easily corrected and amended, 
than the defects and deformities of the body : but 
alas ! every man is in his OAvn opinion sensible 
and good humoured. It is, indeed, possible to con- 
vince us, that we have a bad complexion or an 
awkward deportment, which we endeavour to 
amend by Avashes and a dancing master : but 
Avhen the mind is accused, self-adulation, the most 
fatal species of flattery, makes us cajole ourselves 
into_ a belief, that the fault is not in our own 
disposition, but in that of our companions ; as the 
mad inhabitants of Moorfields conclude all, that 
come to visit them, out of ''their senses. This 
foolish flattery it is, that makes us think our- 
selves inflexibly in the right, Avhile we are ob- 
stinately wrong, and prevents our receiving or 
communicating any pleasure in society. A 
Avhimsical person complains of the fickleness 
of his acqviaintance, and constantly accuses 
them of fancy and caprice : and there never was 
an instance of a positive untoward man, that 
S 



130 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 76. 



did not continually rail at the perverseness and 
obstinacy of the rest of the world. A modern 
buck damns you for a sullen fellow, if you re- 
fuse a pint bumper, and looks upon you as a 
sneaking scoundrel, if you decline entering into 
any of his wild pranks, and do not choose to lie 
all night in the round-house. The untractable 
humorist, while he disgusts all that are about 
him, conceives himself to be the person affront- 
ed, and laments that there is no harmony in the 
conversation, though he is himself the only one 
that plays out of tune. It is true, indeed, that 
*the eye sees not itself:" but when this blind 
partiality is carried so far, as to induce us to be- 
lieve those guilty of the folly, who make us sen- 
sible of it, it is surely as absurd as to imagine, 
that the hair-lip or carbuncled nose, a man sees 
in the glass, belongs to the figure in the mirror, 
and not to his own face. 

Perfection is no more to be expected in the 
minds of men than in their pei'sons : natural 
defects and irregularities in both must be over- 
looked and excused. But then equal attention 
should be paid to both ; and we should not be 
anxious to clothe the person, and, at the same 
time let the mind go naked. "VVe should be 
equally assiduous to obtain knowledge and vir- 
tue, as to put on lace and velvet ; and when our 
minds are completely dressed, we should take 
care that good-nature and complacency influence 
and direct the whole : ivhich -will throw the 
same grace over our virtues and good qualities, 
as fine clothes receive from being cut according 
to the fashion. In order to acquire these good 
qualities, we should examine ourselves impar- 
tially, and not erect ourselves into judges, and 
treat all the rest of mankind like criminals. 
Would it not be highly ridiculous in a person of 
quality to go to court in a ruff cloak, a pair of 
trunk-hose, and the habit worn in the days of 
Queen Elizabeth, and while he strutted about 
in this antiquated garb, to accuse all the rest of 
the world of being out of the fashion. 

I cannot conclude better than with a passage 
from Swift's Tale of a Tub, where the strict 
analogy between the clothing of the mind and 
the body is humorously pointed out. " Man," 
says he, " is a Micro-coat. As to his body there 
can be no doubt ; but examine even the acquire- 
ments of his mind, you will find them all con- 
tribute in their order towards furnishing out an 
exact dress. To instance no more ; is not Re- 
ligion a cloak, Honesty a pair of shoes worn out 
in the dirt. Self-love a surtout, Vanity a shirt, 
and Conscience a pair of breeches, which though 
a cover for lewdness as well as nastiness, is 
easily slipt down for the service of both." 
O. 



No. 76.] Thursday, July 10, 1755. 



Voineris hue et folds honos, hue omnis aratri 
Cessit amor : recoquunt patrios fornacibus eiisrs : 
Classica jamque sormnt : it bello tessera signum. 

VlRG. 

The scythe neglected, and forgot the plough. 
The rustic knits his politician brow : 
His graiidsire's rusty sword he longs to wield, 
While guns, drums, trumpets, call him to the field. 

The British Lion, who has for a long time past 
been a passive couchant beast, or at most been 
heard to gro\vl and grumble, now begins to roar 
again. His tremendous voice has roused the 
whole nation, and the meanest of the people 
breathe nothing but war and revenge. The en- 
croachments of the French on our colonies are 
the general topic of conversation, and the popu- 
lar cry now runs, New England for ever ! 
Peace or war has been the subject of bets at 
White's as well as the debates at the Robin- 
Hood j and "a fleet roasting, new world's new 
dress, the colonies in a rope," &c. -vvere last 
Sunday the subject of a prayer and lecture at 
the Oratory in Clare- Market. The theatres 
also, before they closed the season, eritertained 
us with several warlike dramas. The Press- 
Gang was exhibited at Covent- Garden ; and at 
Drury-lane, the same sea that rolled its canvas 
billows in pantomime at the beginning of the 
season to carry Harlequin to China, was again 
put in motion to transport our sailors to North 
America. At present the streets ring with the 
martial strains of our ballad-singers, who are 
endeavouring like Tyrtoeus of old, to rouse their 
fellow-countrymen to battle ; while all the po- 
lite world are hurrying to Portsmouth to see 
mock-fights, and be regaled with pickled-pork 
and sea-biscuit on board the Admiral. 

This posture of affairs has occasioned politics, 
w^hich have been long neglected as studies useless 
and impertinent, to become once more fashiona- 
ble. Religion and politics, though they natur- 
ally demand our constant attention, are only 
cultivated in England by fits. Christianity 
sleeps among us, unless roused by the apprehen- 
sions of a plague, an earthquake, or a Jew-Bill ; 
and we are alarmed for a Avhile at the sudden 
news of an invasion or a rebellion ; but as soon 
as the danger is over, the Englishman, like the 
soldier recovered from his fright occasioned by 
Queen Mab's drumming in his ear, "swears a 
prayer or two, and sleeps again." To preach 
up public spirit, is at some seasons only blowing 
a dead coal ; but at others, an siccidental blast 
kindles the embers, and they mount into flame in 
an instant. The reign of politics seems at present 
to be re-commencing. Our newspapers contain 
dark hints and shrewd conjectures from the 
Hague, Paris, and Madrid; and the lie of the 
day is artfully contrived to influence the rise 



No. 77.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



131 



and fall of the money-barometer in 'Change 
Alley. This is the present state of politics 
within the bills of mortality ; of which I shall 
now take no further notice, but submit to the 
perusal of my readers the following letter from 
cousin Village on the same important subject. 

Dear Cousin, , June 30, 1755. 

War, though it has not laid our fields waste or 
made our cities desolate, engrosses almost all 
the attention of this place. Every farm-house 
swarms with politicians, who lay their wise 
heads together for the good of the nation ; and 
at every petty chandler's shop in town, whUe 
the half quarterns of tea are weighed out, the 
balance of Europe is adjusted. The preparations 
now making by sea and land are as popular sub- 
jects as the price of corn or the broad- wheel act. 
Success to our ncble admirals, and a speedy war, 
are also as common toasts over a mug of ale as 
God speed the Plough, or a good harvest ; 
though it must be owned, that some selfish 
country squires, who have not an equal share of 
public spirit and love of their country with their 
fellow rustics, are somewhat apprehensive of the 
influence which a war may have upon the Land- 
tax. 

I am at present on a visit to Sir Politic 
Hearty, who is one of those country gentlemen 
who so much prefer the public Tvelfare to their 
own private interest, that they are more anxious 
about the affairs of the nation than the care of 
their own estates. Sir Politic is miserable three 
days in the w^eek for want of intelligence ; but 
his spirits revive at the sound of the post-horn, 
when the mail brings him the London Evening 
Post, and a long letter of news from his nephew 
at the Temple. These Sir Politic himself reads 
after dinner to me, the curate of the parish, and 
the town apothecary, whom he indulges Avith 
the run of his table for their deep insight into 
the proceedings of the government. He makes 
many shrewd remarks on every paragraph, and 
frequently takes the opinion of the two doctors 
(for he honours both the curate and apothecary 
with that title) on the asterisks, dashes, and 
italics. Nothing at first puzzled the honest 
baronet, and his privy covincil, so much as the 
new seat of war. They very well knew the 
situation of Brussels, Ghent, Antwerp, and 
other scenes of action in Flanders ; but Vii'ginia, 
the Ohio, Oswego, &c. (to use a common phrase) 
were quite out of their latitude. But this diffi- 
culty is at length surmovmted by the Templar 
having transmitted to his uncle one of D'An- 
ville's maps, by the help of which the baronet 
sometimes delineates the progress of the French 
up the Ohio in meanders of port winding along 
the table, and sometimes demolishes the forts 
lately raised by the enemy in different parts of 
our colonies. At present wi'iting, I am but just 
withdrawn from the taking of Crown Point, 



represented by a cork, and stormed by Sir Poli- 
tic at the head of an army of cherry-stones. 

Sir Politic has, indeed, studied Monsieur 
D'AnviUe thoroughly : he has also been very 
much taken up of late with the perusal of the 
History of the Six Nations ; so that he has 
scarce one idea in his head, that does not bear 
some relation to the West Indies. .We had some 
boiled beef the other day for dinner ; when the 
good knight observed, that he should be glad to 
partake of a buttock, boiled in the war-kettle ; 
and he had no gooner lighted his pipe, than the 
first puff of the tobacco threw him into some re- 
flections on the danger of Virginia. " By the 
bye," said the baronet, " I am a great admirer of 
the Indian oratory; and I dare say old Hen- 
drick the Sachem would have made a good figure 
in the House of Commons. There is something 
very elegant in the Covenant- Belt ; but pray 
what a pox are those damned Strings of Wam- 
pum? I cannot find any account of them in 
Chambers's Dictionary." He then entered in- 
to a dissertation on the war-whoop ; and turn- 
ing to the apothecary, " Doctor," said he, "what 
do you think of scalping ?" The doctor replied, 
" that for his part he imagined it to be somewhat 
in the nature of an epispastic or blister." " Ay," 
said the other reverend doctor, shaking his head, 
" it is a very barbarous custom indeed ; though 
it is no w^onder, since they have only had a few 
Jesuits among them ; so that they have very 
little notion of Chi'istianity . " 

War never fails of producing groundless and 
contradictory reports ; and if Fame is a lying 
jade in town, she is the idlest gossip that ever 
spoke in the country. We have gained several 
victories in Virginia, and taken several forts, but 
lost them all back again the next post. At one 
time w^e burnt, sunk, took, and destroyed the 
whole French fleet, though it had not stirred out 
of Brest harbom* : and but last week we shot 
off poor Boscawen's legs, and made him fight, 
like Witherington, on his stumps ; till a letter 
from Sir Politic's nephew confuted this report, 
and set the admiral on his legs again. 

I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c. 

T. 



No. 77.] Thursday, July 17, 1755. 



Cum pulchris tunicis sumet nova consilia et spes. 



HOR. 



"Wisdom with periwigs, with cassocks grace. 
Courage with swords, gentility with lace. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I READ youi* late paper, showing the close ana- 
logy Tvhich clothing the body bears to adorning 



132 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 77. 



the mind, and am thoroughly persuaded, that 
the generality of mankind would be as glad to 
embellish theii- minds as to set off their persons, 
if they could procure knowledge, virtue, and 
good-nature, with the same ease that they can 
furnish themselves with the ornaments of the 
body. The clown in rug or duffle, can, at a mo- 
ment's warning, be furnished with a complete 
suit of lace or embroidery from Monmouth- 
street ; his long lank gi-easy hair may be ex- 
changed in Middle- Row for a smart bag or a jem- 
my scratch ; and his clouted shoes, with the rough 
hobnails in the heel and sole clumping at every 
step, may be ti-ansformed into a pair of dancing 
pumps at the Yorkshire warehouse, or the old 
Crispin in Cranbourn-alley. The draggled 
street- walker can rig herself with a clean smock, 
a linen gown, and a hat smartly cocked up be- 
hind and before, in Broad St. Giles's ; or if she 
can afford it, every pawnbroker will let out a 
gold watch with coronets, a tissue or brocaded 
sack, and all the paraphernalia of a countess. 
But where, Mr. Town, can these people go to 
clothe their minds, or at what shops are retailed 
sense and virtue ? Honour and honesty are not 
to be purchased in Monmouth-street ; know- 
ledge is not infused into the head through the 
powder-puif ; and, as good wine needs no bush, 
sense is not derived from the full-bottomed peri- 
wig. The woman of the town, vamped up for 
show^ V7ith paint, patches, plumpers, and every 
external ornament that art can administer, 
knows no method to beautify her mind. She 
cannot, for any price, buy chastity in Broad St. 
Giles's, or hire honesty from the pawnbroker's. 
Seeing, therefore, at one view, the difficulty 
in obtaining the accomplishments of the mind, 
and the exact analogy they bear to dress, I have 
been labouring this week past to remedy that 
inconvenience, and have at length devised a 
scheme, which will fully answer that purpose. 
In a word, then, I shall next winter open a shop 
or warehouse in the most public part of the to wn^ 
under the name of a Mind-and-Body Clothier ; 
two trades which, though never yet united, are 
so far from being incompatible, that they are in 
their nature inseparable. I shall not only sup- 
ply my friends with a suit or a single virtue, but 
furnish them with complete habits of mind and 
body from head to foot ; and by a certain secret 
^rt, in the foi'm and texture of the things sold, 
the required virtues shall be as inherent in them 
as the materials of which they are composed. 
That such virtues may be transfused by clothes, 
is evident from experience. In the narrow ex- 
tent of my reading, Mr. Town, I remember to 
have met with an account of Fortunatus's wish- 
ing-cap, by which he could transport himself in 
an instant from one place to another : it is also 
well known, that the- famous Jack the Giant- 
killer possessed a Sword of Sharpness, Shoes of 
Sv\'iftness, and a Coat of Invisibility. Why then 



may not I sell a surtout of patriotism, or a sword 
of honour, and retail modesty and chastity to fine 
ladies in tuckers and aprons. ^ 

No one who duly considers the natural influ- 
ence which clothes commonly have upon their 
wearers, will object to my scheme as utterly im- 
practicable. That a person can put on or throw 
off the internal habits of his mind together ^vith 
his coat or his periwig, is plain in A-erj' numer- 
ous instances. The young counsellor, who every 
morning in term-time takes the measure of 
Westminster-Hall with the importance of a 
judge upon the circuit, at once divests himself of 
his gi-avity with the starched band and long robe, 
and resumes the spirit of a buck together with 
the sword and bag-wig. In the same manner 
the orthodox vicar once a week wraps himself 
up in piety and virtue with his canonicals ; 
which qualities are as easily cast off again as his 
surplice ; and for the rest of the week he wears 
the dress as well as the manners of his fox-hunt- 
ing patron. We may learn the disposition of a 
man by his apparel, as we know the trade of the 
carpenter by his leathern apron, or a soldier by 
his red coat. When we see a snufF-coloured suit 
of ditto with bolus buttons, a metal headed cane, 
and an enormous bushy gi'izzle, we as readily 
know the wearer to be a dispenser of life and 
death, as if we had seen him pounding a mortar 
or brandishing a clyster-pipe. The different af- 
fections of the mind have been distinguished by 
different colom's ; as scarlet has been made to re- 
present valour, yellow to denote jealousy, and 
true blue to signify integi-ity. Thus we may 
likewise discover all the virtues and vices lurk- 
ing in the different parts of the apparel. When 
at a city feast I see the guests tucking their nap- 
kins into their shirt collars, as if they were all 
of them going to be shaved, I very well know 
that their thoughts wear a different dress than 
when in the Alley : and when the antiquated 
toast is laying on her complexion at the toilette, 
and repairing the ruins of beauty, what is she 
doing but patching her mind with pride and 
conceit ? In a word, I can discover impudence 
staring from the bold cock of a KavenhuUer, par- 
simony skulking in a darned stocking, coquetry 
spread out in a hoop-petticoat, and foppery dan- 
gling fi'om a shoulder-knot. I often please my- 
self with thus remai'king the various dresses of 
the mind ; and by the clue you have already 
given us, I have been able to unfold the inmost 
linings of the heart, and discover ' the very stuff 
of the thoughts. " 

It must, however, be owned, that in these 
matters the nicest penetration may be imposed 
on; since, in the present random method of dress- 
ing, many persons appear in masquerade. This 
inconvenience, among others, will be remedied 
by my project ; for, as whoever deals with me, 
will at once clothe his mind and his body, the 
whole town will be dressed in chai'acter. Thus if 



No. 78.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



133 



a chimney-sweeper or a ploughboy put on a suit 
of embroidery, a sword, bag-wig, &c. they will 
at the same time invest themselves with the in- 
ternal dignity of a person of quality : my lady's 
youngest son may buy coui'age with his regi- 
mentals, and orthodoxy may be purchased at the 
same time with a gown and cassock by the 
young smarts from the universities. My scheme 
also further recommends itself, by laying open 
the only path to virtue and knowledge, that the 
w^orld w^ill choose to follow : for, as my clothes 
will always be cut according to the newest and 
most elegant manner, these qualifications of the 
mind, inherent in them, must necessarily come 
into fashion. Thus our fine gentlemen -will 
learn morality under their valet de chambre ; 
and a young lady of fashion will acquire ne^v 
accomplishments with every new riband, and 
become virtuous as well as beautiful at her toi- 
lette. I depend on your readiness to promote 
my scheme ; but what I most earnestly intreat 
of you, Mr. Town, is to use your utmost interest 
with the polite world, but especially with the 
ladies, not to discard clothes entirely ; as by 
such a resolution my scheme must be defeated : 
and, indeed, it will not be in the power of man 
to give them virtue, if they determine to go 
naked. 

As knowledge and virtue can never be suffi- 
ciently diffused, my w^arehouse ^vill be calculat- 
ed for general use, and stored with large assort- 
ments of all kinds of virtues and dress, that I 
may suit persons of whatever denomination. 
Physicians may be furnished from my shop with 
gravity and learning in the ties of a periwig • 
sergeants at law may be fitted with a competent 
knowledge of reports under a coif; and young 
counsellors may be endued Avith a sufficient fund 
of eloquence for the circuits, in a smart tie be- 
tween a bob and a flow, contrived to cover a 
toupet. I shall sell religion to country parsons 
in pudding-sleeves, and to young town curates 
just come from the university, in doctors' scarfs 
and full grizzles : I shall have some pious ejacu- 
lations, whinings, and groans, ready cut out in 
leathern aprons and blue frocks, for the preach- 
ing fraternity of carpenters, bricklayers, tallow- 
chandlers and butchers, at the Tabernacle and 
Foundery in Moorfields. For our military gen- 
tlemen designed to go abroad, I shall have several 
parcels of true British courage woven in a va- 
riety of cockades and sword-knots ; and for our 
fine gentlemen, who stay at home, I have pro- 
vided a proper quantity of French Bagatelle, in 
cut velvet, lace and embroidery, neat as im- 
ported. 

As the ladies, I suppose, will all of them to a 
woman, be desirous of purchasing beauty with 
every branch of the female apparel, I ami afraid 
I shall not be able to answer their demands ; 
but I shall have several di-esses, which will make 
up for the want of it. I shall have neatness 



done up in a great variety of plain linen ; de- 
cency and discretion in several patterns for mobs, 
hoods, and nightgowns ; together with modesty 
disposed into tuckers, kerchiefs for the neck, 
stays that almost meet the chin, and petticoats 
that touch the ground. I shall also have a 
small portion of chastity knit into garters, and 
twisted into laces for the stays, very proper to 
be worn at masquerades and assemblies. 

I had almost forgot to mention, that authors, 
who are often in equal want of sense and clothes 
shall be fitted out by me with both at once on 
very reasonable rates. As for yourself, Mr. 
Town, I shall beg leave to present you ^vith an 
entire suit of superfine wit and humour, war- 
ranted to wear well, and appear creditable, and 
in which no author would be ashamed to be 



W. 



1 am. Sir, your humble Servant, 
EuTRAPELUs Trim. 



No. 78.] Thursday, July 24, 1753. 



JEtatis cujusque notandi sunt tihi mores. 

What foibles wait on life through every stage ! 
Our youth a wild-fire, and a frost our age ! 



Hob. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



Nothing is more necessary, in order to wear off 
any particularities in our behaviour, or to root 
out any perverseness in our opinions, than mix- 
ing Avith persons of ages and occupations differ- 
ent from our own. Whosoever confines himself 
entirely to the society of those who are engaged 
in the same pursuits, and whose thoughts natu- 
I'ally take the same turn Tvith his own, acquires 
a certain stiffness and pedantry of behaviour, 
Avhich is sure to make him disagTeeable, except 
in one particular set of company. Instead of 
cramping the mind by keeping it within so nar- 
row a circle, w^e should endeavour to enlarge it 
by every worthy notion and accomplishment ; 
and temper each qualification Avith its opposite, 
as the four elements are compounded in our 
natural frame. 

The necessity of this free conversation, to 
open and improve the mind, is evident from 
the consequences, %vhich alvrays follow a neglect 
of it. The employment each man is engaged 
in wholly engrosses his attention, and tinges 
the mind with a peculiar dye, which shoAAS 
itself in all the operations of it, unless pre- 
vented by natui'al good sense or a liberal edu- 
cation. The physician, the lawyer, and the 
tradesman, will appear in company, though none 
of those occupations are the subject of discourse; 
and the clergynman w^ill grow morose and se- 
vere, who seldom or never converses with the la- 



134 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 78. 



ity. If no particular profession has this influence 
over us, some darling passion or amusement 
gives a colour to our thoughts and actions, and 
makes us odious, or at least ridiculous. Fine 
ladies, for instance, by despising the conversation 
of sensible men, can talk of nothing but routs, 
balls, assemblies, birth-day suits, and intrigues ; 
and fine gentlemen, for the same reason, of al- 
most nothing at all. In like manner, the furi- 
ous partisan, who has not been weaned from a 
mad attachment to particular principles, is weak 
enough to imagine every man of a different way 
of thinking a fool and a scoundrel ; and the 
sectary or zealot devotes to eternal damnation all 
those who will not go to heaven in the same 
road with himself, under the guidance of Whit- 
field, Wesley, or Count Zinzendorff. To the 
same cause we owe the rough country squire, 
whose ideas are wholly bent on guns, dogs, 
horses, and game ; and who has every thing 
about him of a piece with his diversions. His 
hall must be adorned with stags' heads, instead 
of busts and statues ; and in the room of family 
pictures, you will see prints of the most famous 
stallions and race-horses : all his doors open and 
shut with foxes' feet ; and even the buttons of 
iiis clothes are impressed with the figures of 
dogs, foxes, stags, and horses. To this absurd 
practice of cultivating only one set of ideas, and 
shutting ourselves out from any intercourse with 
the rest of the world, is owing that narrowness 
of mind, which has infected the conversation of 
the polite world with insipidity, made rough- 
ness and brutality the characteristics of a mere 
country gentleman, and produced the most fatal 
consequences in politics and religion. 

But if this commerce with the generality of 
mankind is so necessary to remove any impres- 
sions, which we may be liable to receive from 
any particular employment or darling amuse- 
ment, what precautions ought to be used, in 
order to remedy the inconveniences naturally 
brought on us by the different ages of life ! It is 
not certain, that a person will be engaged in any 
profession, or given up to any peculiar kind of 
pleasure; but the mind of every man is subject 
to the inclinations arising from the several stages 
of his existence, as well as his body to chronical 
distempers. This indeed, Mr. Town, is the 
principal cause of my writing to you ; for it has 
often given me great concern to see the present 
division between the young and the old ; to ob- 
serve elderly men forming themselves into clubs 
and societies, that they may be more securely 
separated from youth ; and to see young men 
running into dissipation and debauchery, rather 
than associate with age. If each party would 
labour to conform to the other, from such a 
coalition many advantages would acrue to both. 
Our youth would be instructed by the experi- 
ence of age, and lose much of that levity which 
tbey retain too long ; while, at the same time, 



the wrinkled brow of the aged would be smooth- 
ed by the sprightly cheerfulness of youth, — by 
which they might supply the want of spirits, 
forget the loss of old friends, and bear with ease 
all their worldly misfortunes. It is remarkable, 
that those young men are the most worthy and 
sensible, who have kept up any intercourse with 
the old ; and that those old men are of the most 
cheerful and amiable disposition, who have not 
been ashamed to converse with the young. 

I will not pretend to decide which party is 
most blameable in neglecting this necessary com- 
merce with each other, which, if properly 
managed, would be at once so beneficial and de- 
lightful ; but it undoubtedly arises from a certain 
selfishness and obstinacy in both, which will not 
suffer them to make a mutual allowance for the 
natural difference of their dispositions. Their 
inclinations are, indeed, as different as their 
years ; yet each expects the other to comply, 
though neither will make any advances. How 
rarely do we see the least degree of society pre- 
served between a father and son ! a shocking 
reflection, when we consider that nature has en- 
deavoui-ed to unite them by parental affection on 
one side, and filial gratitude on the other. Yet 
a father and son as seldom live together with 
any tolerable harmony, as a husband or wife ; 
and chiefly for the same reason ; for though they 
are both joined under the same yoke, yet they 
are each tugging different ways. A father might 
as well expect his son to be as gouty and infirm 
as himself, as to have the disposition which he 
has contracted from age; and a son might as 
reasonably desire the vigour and vivacity of five 
and twenty, as his own love of gayety and di- 
versions, in his fathei'. It is therefore evident, 
that a mutual endeavour to conform to each 
other is absolutely i-equisite to keep together the 
cement of natural affection, which an un tracta- 
ble stubbornness so frequently dissolves ; or, at 
least, if it does not disturb the affection, it con- 
stantly destroys the society between father and 
son. 

This unhappy and unnatural division is often 
the subject of complaint in persons of both ages ; 
but is still unremedied, because neither reflect 
on the cause whence it proceeds. Old men are 
perpetually commenting on the extreme levity 
of the times, and blaming the young, because 
they do not admire and court their company ; 
which, indeed, is no wonder, since they general- 
ly treat their youthful companions as mere chil- 
dren, and expect such a slavish deference to their 
years, as destroys that equality by which cheer- 
fulness and society subsist. Young men do not 
like to be chid by a proverb, or reproved by a 
wrinkle ; but though they do not choose to be 
corrected by their grave seniors like school-boys, 
they ^vould be proud to consult them as friends; 
which the injudicious severity of old age seldom 
will permit, not deigning to indulge them with 



No. 79.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



135 



so great a degree of freedom and familiai'ity. 
Youth, on the other hand> shun the company of 
age, complaining of the small regard and respect 
paid to them, though they often act with so little 
reserve and such unbecoming confidence, as not 
to deserve it. Suppose the old were pleased 
with the natural flow of spirits and lively con- 
versation of youth, still some i-espect may be 
challenged as due to them ; nor should the de- 
cency and sobriety of their characters ever be in- 
sulted by any improper or immodest conversa- 
tion. 

I am an old man myself, Mr. Town, and I 
have an only boy, whose behaviour to me is un- 
exceptionable : permit me, therefore, to dwell a 
moment longer on my favourite subject, and I 
will conclude. With what harmony might all 
parents and children live together, if the father 
would strive to soften the rigour of age, and re- 
member that his son must naturally possess those 
qualities, which ever accompany youth ; and if 
the son would in return endeavour to suit him- 
self to those infirmities, which his father re- 
ceived from old age ! If they would reciprocally 
study to be agreeable to each other, the father 
would insensibly substitute affection in the room 
of authority, and lose the churlish severity and 
peevishness incident to his years : while the son 
would curb the unbecoming impetuosity of his 
youth, change his reluctance to obey into a con- 
stant attention to please, and remit much of his 
extreme gayety in conformity to the gravity of 
his father. Wherever such a turn of mind is 
encouraged, there must be happiness and agree- 
able society : and the contrary qualities of youth 
and age, thus blended, compose the surest ce- 
ment of aifcction ; as colours of the most oppo- 
site tints, by a skilful inixture, each giving and 
receiving certain shades, will form a picture, the 
most heightened and exquisite in its colouring. 
I am, Sir, your most humble Servant, 
John Bevil. 



No. 79.] Thursday, July 31, 1755. 



ie, BoUane, cerebri 



Felicem ! aiebam tacitus, cum quidlibet Ule 
Garriret, vkos, urbem laudaret. — Hoe 

Silent 1 said, O happiest head of cit, 
With brain uncumber'd, and the load of wit ! 
rrom street to street still rambling up and down. 
While aU his talk was still of London town. 

MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 

Dear Cousin, 
I HAVE been very much diverted with your ob- 
servations on the honest tradesmen, who make 
weekly excursions into the villages about town ; 



and I agree with you, that the generality of your 
citizens seldom dare trust themselves out of the 
sight of London smoke, or extend their travels 
further than with their wives and children in 
the Wandsworth double post-chaise, or the 
Hampton long coach. But we may now and 
then pick up a stray citizen, whom business has 
dragged beyond the bills of mortality, as it hap- 
pened to myself the other day about forty mile 
from London ; and as I was mightily pleased 
with his behaviour and conversation, I have 
taken the liberty to send you an account of it. 

Being caught in a shower upon the road, 1 
was glad to take shelter at the first inn I came 
to ; which, if it had not been called the New 
Inn, I should have thought, from its antique 
appearance, had been a house of entertainment 
in the time of our great grandfathers. I had 
scarce alighted, when a strange figure, (driven 
thither, as I supposed, on the same account with 
myself,) came soberly jogging into the yard, 
dripping wet. As he waited for the steps before 
he would venture to get off his horse, I had the 
opportunity of surveying his whole appearance. 
He was wrapped up in an old thread -bare 
weather-beaten surtout, which I believe had 
once been scarlet ; the cape was pulled over his 
head, and buttoned up close round his face; and 
his hat was flapped down on each side, and 
fastened about his ears with a list garter tied 
under his chin. He -wore upon his legs some- 
thing that resembled spatterdashes, which (as I 
afterwards learned) were cut out of an old pair 
of boots; but his right shoe w^as considerably 
larger than the other, and had several slits in 
the upper leather. He had spurs on, indeed, 
but without rowels; and by way of whip, a 
worm-eaten cane, with a bone head studded 
with brass pins, hung from his wrist by a string 
of greasy black leather. 

I soon found I ^vas nobody : for the gentle- 
man, it seems, took up the whole attention of 
the maid, mistress and hostler, who all of thena 
got round him, and with much difficulty, by the 
assistance of the steps, helped him down. My 
landlady, before it was possible for her to see 
any part of him but his nose, told him " be 
looked brave and jolly;" and when she had led 
him into the kitchen, she fetched a large glass of 
what she called "her own water," which (she 
said) would drive the cold out of his stomach. 
All hands were notv busied in drawing off his 
surtout, which discovered underneath a full- 
trimmed white coat, and a black velvet waist- 
coat with a broad gold lace very much tarnished. 
The surtout was hung to dry by the fire as well 
as his coat, the place of which was supplied by a 
long riding-hood of my landlady : and as the 
gentleman complained of having suffered by loss 
of leather, the maid was despatched to the doc- 
tor's for some diachylon. The usual question 
DOW succeeded, concerning dinner; and as he 



136 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 80. 



observed I was all alone, he very courteously 
asked me to join company, which I as readily 
agreed to. 

The important business of dinner being set- 
tled, we adjourned into a private room, when my 
fellow-guest told me of his own mere act and 
motion, that he lived in London ; that for these 
twenty years he had always come to the town 
we were now in, once a year, to receive money, 
and take orders for goods : and that he had 
always put up at this house. He then run on 
in the praises of the landlady ; and tipping me a 
w^ink, " Ay," says he, " she has been a clever 
woman in her time, before she bore children." 
He added, that for his part he did not like your 
great inns ; for that they never looked upon any 
thing under a coach and six. He further in- 
formed me, that he was married to his present 
wife in the first mayoralty of Alderman Par- 
sons, and in the very waistcoat he had on ; 
" but," says he, " I now wear it only on a jour- 
ney ; because, you know a bit of lace commands 
respect upon the road." On inquiring about his 
family, I found he had three boys ; one of whom 
was bound 'prentice to himself ; the other was 
sent to sea, because he was a wild one ; and the 
youngest he designed to make a parson, because 
he was grave, and his play-fellows at Poule's 
school used to call him Bishop. 

All this while he had sat in my landlady's 
riding-hood, with a linen night-cap on his head 
tied on the top with a piece of black riband, 
which (he told me) he always rode in, because it 
was cooler than a wig. But the saddle-bags 
were now ordered in ; and out of one of them he 
drew a large flowing grizzle carefully buckled, 
which he combed out himself, borrowing some 
flower from the kitchen drudger. His spatter- 
dashes were next taken off, and his shoes wiped 
with a wisp of hay ; when being assured by the 
landlady herself, that his coat was dry enough 
to put on, he completely equipped himself, in 
order to wait on several tradesmen, with whom 
he had dealings, after dinner. As this was not 
quite ready, we took a walk to the stables to see 
his mare : and though the beast seemed as lean 
and as harmless as Sancho's ass, he assured me 
he had much ado to ride her, she was so frisky ; 
" for she had not run in the chaise these two 
Sundays past." 

Being summoned to dinner, we sat down to a 
repast of mutton chops and sheep's hearts, which 
last he declared to be the wholesomest eating in the 
^vol•ld. He objected to wine, because there was 
not a drop good for any thing to be got upon the 
road ; but he vastly recommended my landlady's 
home-brewed, which he affirmed to be better 
than Hogsden ale, or the Thatch beer at Isling- 
ton. Our meal being ended, mycom])anion took 
his pipe ; and we laid our heads together for the 
good of the nation, when we mauled the French 
terribly both by land and sea. At last, among 



other talk, he happened to ask me, if I lived in 
the city? As I was desirous of hearing his re- 
marks, I answered, that I had never seen Lon- 
don. " Never seen it ?" says he, " Then you 
have never seen one of the finest sights in the 
whole world. Paris is but a dog-hole to it." 
There luckily hung a large map of London over 
the chimney-piece, ^vhich he immediately made 
me get from my chair to look at. " There," 
says he, " there's London for you. — You see it is 
bigger than the map of all England." He then 
led me about, with the end of his pipe, through 
all the principal streets from Hyde- Park to 
Whitechapel. — " That," says he, " is the River 
Thames — There's London Bridge — There my 
Lord Mayor lives — That's Poule's — There the 
monument stands : and now, if you was but on 
the top of it, you might see all the houses and 
chm-ches in London." I expressed my aston- 
ishment at every particular : but I could hard- 
ly refrain laughing, when pointing out to me 
Lincoln's-Inn Fields — " There," says he, " there 
all the noblemen live." At last, after having 
transported me all over the town, he set me 
down in Cheapside, " which," he said, " was 
the biggest street in the city." — " And now," 
says he, " I'll show you where I live. — That's 
Bow- Church — and thereabouts — where my pipe 
is — there — just there my shop stands." He con- 
cluded -vvith a kind invitation to me to come and 
see him ; and puUing out a book of patterns from 
his coat pocket, assured me that if I wanted any 
thing in his way, he could afford to let me have 
a bargain. 

I promised to call upon him ; and the wea- 
ther now clearing up, after settling the balance 
of our reckoning with the landlady, we took 
leave of each other : but just as I had mounted 
my horse, and was going to set forward, my 
new acquaintance came up to me, and shaking 
me by the hand, — " Harkye," says he, " if you 
wiU be in town by the twenty-fifth of this in- 
stant July, I will introduce you to the Cockney's 
Feast : where, I assure you, you'll be niighty 
merry, and hear a gi-eat many good songs." 

T. I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c« 



No. 80.] Thursday, Aug. 7, 1756. 



Nulla viri cum infereS, nee nieniiojift 
Damnoru?}!. JuT. 

What tliougli the spouse be ruin'd, where'sthe sin. 
By madam's friends, so dear, so near akin ? 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sib, 



If polygamy was allowed in this country, I am 
sure I might maintain a seraglio of wives at less 
expense, than I have brought upon myself by 



No. 80.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



137 



marrying one woman. One did I say ? Alas I 
1 find it, to my cost, that a wife, like a polypus, 
has the power of dividing and multiplying her- 
self into as many bodies as she pleases. You must 
know, Mr. Town, I took a woman of small 
fortune, and made her my oivn flesh and blood : 
but I never thought, that all her relations would 
likewise fasten on me with as little ceremony 
as a colony of fleas. I had scarce brought her 
home, before I was obliged to marry her mother ; 
then I was prevailed upon to marry her two 
maiden sistei-s ; after that I man-ied her aunts ; 
then her cousins ; in short, I am now married 
to the whole generation of them. I do not 
exaggei-ate matters, when I say that I am mar- 
ried to them all ; for they claim as much right 
to every thing that is mine, as the person whom 
the world calls my wife. They eat, drink, and 
sleep with me : every room in my house is at 
their command, except my bed-chamber : they 
borrow money of me ; and since I have the 
whole family quartered upon me, what signifies 
which of them takes upon her my name, — my 
wife, her sister, or her twentieth cousin ? 

(), INIr. Town ! I never sit down to table 
without the lamentable prospect of seeing as 
much victuals consumed as "would dine a ^vhole 
vestry. So many mouths constantly going at 
my expense I — And then there is such a variety 
of provisions ! for cousin Biddy likes one dish ; 
my aunt Rachel is fond of another ; sister 
jNIoUy cannot abide this ; and mother could 
n8A-er touch that ; though I find they are all of 
them unanimous in liking the l^est of every thing 
in season. Besides, I could entertain a set of 
jolly topers at a less rate than it costs me in light 
wines for the women. One of them drinks no- 
thing but Lisbon ; with another nothing goes 
down but Rhenish and Spa ; a third SAvallo^vs 
me an ocean of Bristol Milk, -with as little re- 
moi*se as she would so much small beer : my 
eldest aunt likes a glass of dry Mountain ; while 
the other thinks nothing helps digestion so well 
as Madeira. It Tvas but last week that my wife 
expressed a desire of tasting some Claret, when 
immediately all my good-natured relations had 
a mighty longing for it ; but with much ado I 
at last prevailed on them to compound with me 
for a chest of Florence. 

You may imagine, that my house cannot be a 
very small one ; and I assure you there are as 
many beds in it, as in a country inn. Yet I 
have scarce room to turn myself about in it ; for 
one apartment is taken up by this relation, ano- 
ther by that ; and the most distant cousm must 
Lave more respect shown her, than to be clapped 
up in a garret with the maid-servants ; so that 
poor I have no more liberty in mv own house 
than a lodger. Once, indeed, I in vain endea- 
voured to shake them ofi", and took a little box in 
the neighboiu'hood of town, scarce biff enousrh 
to hold my own family. But alas I they stuck 



as close to it as a snaU to her shell : and rather 
than not lie under the same roof with their rela- 
tion, they contrived, to litter together like so 
many pigs in a stye. At another time, thinking 
to clear my house at once of these vermin, I 
packed up my wife and mother, and sent them 
to her uncle's in the country for a month. But 
what could I do ? There was no getting rid of 
those left behind : my wife had made over to 
them the care of the household, allotting to each 
of them her pai'ticular employment diu-ing her 
absence. One was to pickle walnuts, another to 
presei"A"e s"weetmeats, another to make INIorella 
brandy ; all which they executed with the nota- 
bleness peculiar to good housevrives, who spoil 
and waste more than they save, for the satisfac- 
tion of making these things at home. At last 
my wife returned ; and all that I got by her 
journey, was the importation of two new cou- 
sins fi-esh oiit of the country, who she never 
knew before were the least related to her : — but 
they have been so kind as to claim kindred irith 
me by hanging upon me ever since. 

One would imagine, that it "were sufiicient 
for these loving relations to have the run of my 
table, and to make my house in every respect 
their own : but not content -with this, they have 
the cunning to oblige me in a manner to find 
them in clothes likewise. I should not repine, 
if any of my worthy relations were humble 
enough to put up with a cast-off suit of my 
wife's ; but that would be robbing the maid of 
her just dues, and ■would look more like a de- 
pendent than a relation. Not but that they will 
condescend now and then to take a gown, before 
it is half worn out ^when they have talked. 
my wife into a dislike of it^ — because it is too 
good for a common servant. They have more 
spirit than to beg any thing : but — if my wife 
has a fancy to part with it — they will wear it, 
purely for her sake. A cap, "an apron, or a 
handkerchief, "which I am told, looks hideous 
upon her, I always find is very becoming on any 
other of the family : and I remember, soon 
after we were married, happening to find fault 
with the pattern of a silk brocade my wife had 
just bought, one of her sisters took it from her, 
and told me she would have it made up for her- 
self, and wear it on purpose to spite me. 

You must know, Mr. Town, that upon my 
marriage I "was indiscreet enough to set up my 
chariot : and since my family has increased so 
prodigiously, this has given them a pretext to 
have a coach likewise, and another pair of 
horses. This also furnishes them "with a pre- 
tence for running about to public diversions, 
where I am forced to treat them all : for they 
are so very fond of each other's company, that 
one "will hardly ever stir out -without the other. 
Thus at home or abroad, they constantly herd 
toffether : and -what is still more provoking, 
though I had rather have a rout every week at 
^ T 



138 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 81. 



my house, my wife makes a merit of it, thatf she 
keeps little or no company. 

Such is the state of my family within doors : 
and though you would think this sufficient for 
one man, 1 can assure you I have other calls 
upon me from relations no less dear to me, though 
I have never yet had the happiness to see them. 
A third cousin by my wife's father's side was 
set up in the country in a very good way of 
business ; but by misfortunes in trade must have 
gone to jail, if my wife had not teased me into 
being bound for him, and for which I was soon 
afterwards arrested, and obliged to pay the 
money. Another, a very promising youth, was 
just out of his time, and only -wanted a little 
sum to set him up ; which as soon as I had lent 
him, he run away, and is gone to sea. One of 
the aunts, who is now with me, (a widow lady) 
has an only daughter, a sober discreet body, who 
lived as a companion with an old gentlewoman 
in the country ; but the poor innocent girl being 
drawn aside by a vile fellow that ruined her, I 
have been forced to support the unhappy mother 
and child ever since, to prevent any reproach 
falling on our family. I shall say nothing of 
the various presents, which have travelled down 
to my wife's uncle, in return for one turkey and 
chine received at Christmas ; nor shall I put to 
account the charge I have been at in the gossips' 
fees, and in buying corals, anodyne necklaces, 
&c. for half a dozen little nephe\vs, nieces, and 
cousins, to which I had the honour of standing 
godfather. 

And now, Mr. Town, the mention of this 
large cii'cumstance makes me reflect with a heavy 
heart on a nevi^ calamity, which will shortly be- 
fall me. My wife, you must know, is very near 
her time ; and they have provided such a stori? 
of clouts, caps, forehead cloths, biggens, belly- 
hands, whittles, and all kinds of child-bed- 
linen, as would set up a lying-in hospital. You 
will conclude, that my family wants no further 
increase : yet, would you believe it? I have just 
received a letter, acquainting me, that another 
aunt, and another cousin, are coming up in the 
stage coach to see their relation, and are resolved 
to stay with her the month. Indeed, I am afraid, 
when they have once got footing in my house, 
they will resolve to stay with her, till she has 
had another and another child. 

T. I am, Sir, your humble servant, &c. 

No. 81.] Thursday, Aug. 14, 1755. 



— Genus humanum midtbfuit illiid in arvisi 
Diiriits. LucRET. 

A hardy race of mortals, train'd to sports. 
The field their inv, unpolisli'd yet by courts. 

MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 
Dear Cousin, 
A MKUE country squire, who passes all his time 



among dogs and horses, is now become an un- 
common character ; and the most awkward 
loobily inheritor of an old mansion-house is a 
tine gentleman in comparison to his forefathers. 
The principles of a town education, formerly 
scarce spread themselves beyond the narrow li- 
mits of the bills of mortality ; but now evtry 
London refinement travels to the remotest cor- 
ner of the kingdom, and the polite families from 
the town duly import to their distant seats the 
customs and manners of Pall-mall and Grosve- 
nor-square. 

1 have been for this fortnight past at Lord 
Courtly's, who for about four months in every 
year leads a town life at the distance of above 
two hundred miles from London. He never 
leaves his bed till twelve or one o'clock ; though, 
indeed, he often sees the sun rise ; but then that 
only happens when, as the old song says, he has 
" drank down the moon." Drinking is the only 
rural amusement he pursues ; but even that part 
of his diversions is conducted entirely in the 
London fashion. He does not swill country ale, 
but gets drunk with Champagne and Burgun- 
dy ; and every dish at his table is served up with 
as much elegance as at White's or Ryan's. He 
has an excellent pack of hounds ; but, I believe, 
was never in at the death of a fox in his life . 
yet strangei's never want a chase, for the hounds 
are out three times a week with a younger 
brother of Lord Courtly, who never saw Lou- 
don, and who, if he was not indulged with a 
place at his lordship's table, might naturally be 
considered as his whipp^"-in or his game-keeper. 

The evening walk is a thing unknown and 
unheard of at Lord Courtly's ; for, though si- 
tuated in a very fine countj-y, he knows no more 
of the charms of purling streams and shady 
groves, than if they had never existed but in 
poetry or romance. As soon as the daily de- 
bauch after dinner, and the ceremonies of coffee 
and tea are over, the company is conducted into 
a magnificent apartment, illuminated with wax 
candles, and set out with as many card-tables, 
as the rout of a foreign ambassador's lady. Here 
Faro, Whist, Brag, Lansquenet, and every other 
fashionable game, make up the evening's enter- 
tainment. This piece of politeness has often 
fallen heavy on some honest country gentlemen, 
who have found dining with his lordship turn 
out a very dear ordinary : and many a good lady 
has had occasion to curse the cards, and her ill- 
starred connections with persons of quality ; 
though his lordship is never at a loss for a party ; 
for as several people of fashion have seats near 
him, he often sits down with some of his friends 
of the club at White's. I had almost forgot to 
mention, that her ladyship keeps a day, which 
is Sunday. 

This, dear Cousin, is the genteel manner of liv- 
ing in the country ; and I cannot help observing, 
that persons polite enough to be fond of such 



No. 81.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



139 



exquisite refinements, are partly in the same 
case with the mechanic at his dusty villa. They 
both, indeed, change their situation ; but neither 
find the least alteration in their ideas. The 
tradesman, when at his box, has aU the notions 
that employ him in his counting-house : and the 
nobleman, though in the furthest part of Eng- 
land, may still be said to breathe the air of St. 
James's. 

I was chiefly induced to send you this short 
account of the refined manner, in which persons 
of fashion pass their time at Lord Courtly's, 
because I think it a very striking contrast to the 
character described in the following transcript. 
I hope your readers will not do either you or 
me the honour to think this natural portraiture 
a mere creature of the imagination. The picture 
of the extraordinary gentleman here described 
is now at the seat of Lord Shaftsbury at St. 
Giles's, near Ci'anborn in Dorsetshire, and this 
lively character of him was really and truly 
drawn by Anthony Ashly Co^vper, first Earl 
of Shaftsbury, and is inscribed on the picture. 
I doubt not, but you wiU be glad of being able 
to communicate it to the public, and that they 
will receive it with their usual candour. 

THE CHARACTER OF 
THE HONOURABLE W. HASTINGS, 

OF WOODLANDS, IN HAMPSHIRE ; 

SECOND SON OF 

FRANCIS, EARL OF HUNTINGDON; 

In the year 1638 lived Mr. Hasting : by his 
quality son, brother, and uncle to the Earls of 
Huntingdon. He was peradventure an origi- 
nal in our age ; or rather the copy of our ancient 
nobility, in hunting, not in w^arlike times. 

He was low, very strong, and very active ; of 
a reddish flaxen hair. His clothes always 
green cloth, and never aU worth (when new) 
five pounds. 

His house was perfectly of the old fashion, in 
the midst of a large Park well stocked with 
deer ; and near the house rabbits to serve his 
kitchen : many fish ponds ; great store of wood 
and timber ; a boAvling green in it, long but 
narrow, fuU of high ridges, it being never 
levelled since it was ploughed. They used round 
sand bowls ; and it had a banquetting house 
like a stand, built in a tree. 

He kept all manner of sport hounds, that ran 
huck, fox, hare, otter, and badger. And hawks, 
long and short winged. He had all sorts of nets 
for fish. He had a walk in the new Forest, and 
the manor of Christ-church. This last sup- 
plied him with red deer, sea and river fish. And 
indeed all his neighbours' gi'ounds and royalties 
were free to him, who bestowed all his time on 
these sports, but what he borrowed to caress his 
neighbours' wives and daughters ; there being 
not a woman in all his walks, of the degree of a 



yeoman's wife or under, and under the age of 
forty, but it was extremely her fault if he was 
not intimately acquainted with her. This made 
him very popular; always speaking kindly to 
the husband, brother or father : who was, to 
boot, very welcome to his house, whenever he 
came. There he found beef, pudding, and small 
beer in great plenty. A house not so neatly kept 
as to shame him or his dirty shoes : the great 
hall strowed with marrow-bones, full of hawk's 
perches, hounds, spaniels and terriers : the upper 
side of the hall hung with fox skins of this and 
the last year's killing ; here and there a pole-cat 
intermixed : game-keepers and hunters' poles 
in great abundance. 

The parlour was a large room as properly 
furnished. On a gi'eat hearth paved with brick 
lay some terriers, and the choicest hounds and 
spaniels. Seldom but two of the great chairs 
had litters of 3'oung cats in them, which were 
not to be disturbed, he having always tliree or 
four attending him at dinner ; and a little white 
stick of fourteen inches lying by his trencher, 
that he might defend such meat as he had no 
mind to part w^ith to them. The windows 
(which were veiy large) served for places to lay 
his arrows, cross-bows, stone-bows, and other 
such like accoutrements. The corners of the 
room full of the best close hunting and hawking 
poles. An oyster table at the lower end, which 
was of constant use twice a day all the year 
round. For he never failed to eat oystei's, be- 
fore dinner and supper, through all seasons ; 
the neighbouring town of Pool supplied him 
with them. 

The upper part of the room had two small 
tables and a desk, on the one side of which was 
a church Bible, and on the other the Book of 
Martyrs. On the tables were hawks-hoods, 
bells, and such like ; two or three old gi-een hats, 
with their crowns thrust in so as to hold ten or 
a dozen eggs, Avhich Tvere of a pheasant kind ot 
poultry he took much care of and fed himself. 
Tables, dice, cards, and boxes, were not want- 
ing. In the hole of the desk were store of 
tobacco pipes that had been used. 

On one side of this end of the room was the 
door of a closet wherein stood the strong beer 
and the wine, which never came thence but in 
single glasses : that being the rule of the house 
exactly observed. For he never exceeded in 
drink or permitted it. 

On the other side was the door into an old 
chapel, that was never used for devotion. The 
pulpit, as the safest place, was never wanting of 
a cold chine of beef, venison pasty, gammon of 
bacon, or great apple-pye with thick-crust, ex- 
tremely baked. 

His table cost him not much, though it was 
good to eat at. His sports supplied all but beef 
and mutton, except PYidays, when he had the 
best ;salt-fish fas well as other fish) he could get; 



140 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 82. 



and was the day his neighbours of best quality 
most visited him. He never n'anted a London 
pudding, and always sung it in with " my part 
lies therein-a." He drank a glass or two of wine 
at meals ; very often sjTup of gilliflower in his 
iacli. : and had always a tun glass, without feet, 
stood by him, holding a pint of small beer which 
he often stirred with rosemary. 

He was well-natured but soon angry, calling 
his servants bastards, and cuckoldy knaves, in 
one of which he often spoke truth to his own 
knowledge ; and sometimes in both, though of 
the same man. He lived to be a hundred ; 
never lost his eye-sight, but always wrote and 
read without spectacles ; and got on horseback 
without help. Until past fourscore he rode to 
the death of a stag as well as any. 

I am, dear Cousin, yours, &c. 



No. 82.] Thursday, Aug. 21, 1755. 



Nosse omnia hcec, salus est adolescentulis. 
All these to know, is safety to the youth. 



Ter. 



Though the following letter was originally 
written for the instruction of a young gentleman 
going to the university ; yet as it contains seve- 
ral just and sensible reflections, which may be 
of use to many of my readers, I have wiUingly 
complied with the request of my correspondent 
in making it the entertainment of to-day. 

Dear Sir, 
As you are now going to the university, I 
would not be thought to pay so ill a compliment 
to your ow^n natural good sense, as to suppose 
that you will not (like many young gentlemen of 
fortune) in some measure apply yourself to study ; 
otherwise the time you spend there will be en- 
tirely lost : for (as Swift very justly remarks) 
*' all ornamental parts of education are better 
taught in other places. " At the same time I do 
not mean, that you should commence pedant, 
and be continually poring on a book ; since that 
w^ill rather puzzle, than inform the understand- 
ing. And though I know many sprightly 
young gentlemen of lively and quick parts aifect 
to despise it altogether, it will be necessary to 
learn something of logic ; I mean in the same 

manner one would learn fencing not to attack 

others, but to defend one's self. In a word, 
you will find it a great unhappiness, when you 
return hither, if you do not bring with you some 
taste for reading : for a mere country gentleman, 
who can find no society in books, will have little 
else to do, besides following his sports, but to sit, 
as squire of the company, tippling among a par- 
cel of idle wretches, whose understandings are 
nearly on the level with his dogs and horses. 



It has been an established maxim that the 
world will always form an opinion of persojis 
according to the company they are known to 
keep. In the university, as well as in other 
places, there are people, whom we ought to 
avoid, as we woulu the plague : and as it is of 
the utmost consequence, whether you plunge at 
once into extravagance and debauchery, or sink 
gi-adually into indolence and stupitMty, I shall 
point out sonie of these pests of society in as few 
words as possible. 

The first person I would caution you against, 
is the ^vi-etch that takes a delight to turn religion 
into ridicule : one who employs that speech, 
which was given him by God to celebrate his 
praise, in questioning his very being. This, as 
it is impious in itself, is likewise the height of ill 
manners. It is hoped, there are but few of them 
to be met with in a place of sound doctrine and 
religious education : but wherever they are, 
they ought to be avoided as much as possible : 
and if they wiU force themselves into oui* com- 
pany, they should be used with the same con- 
tempt with which they have the hardiness to 
treat their Maker. And this, I can assure you, 
may be done safely ; for I never knew any body, 
w^ho pretended to be above the fear of God, but 
was under the most terrible apprehensions 
whenever attacked by man. 

The next character, whom I would advise you 
to shun, is the gamester, in some respects not 
unlike the former. The gaming-table is his 
shrine, and fortune his deity ; nor does he ever 
speak or think of any other, unless by way of 
blasphemy, oaths, and curses, when he has had a 
bad run at cai'ds or dice. He has not the least 
notion of friendship ; but would ruin his own 
brother, if it might be of any advantage to him- 
self. He, indeed, professes himself your friend ; 
but that is only with a design to draw you in ; 
for his trade is inconsistent Avith the principles 
of honour or justice, Avithout which there can 
be no real friendship. It should, therefore be 
the care of every gentleman, not to hold any 
commerce with such people, whose acquaintance 
he cannot enjoy, without giving up his estate. 

The next person, whom you ought to bew;ire 
of is a drimkai'd ; one that takes an unaccoimt- 
able pleasure in sapping his constitution, and 
drowning his understanding. He constantly 
goes senseless to bed, and rises mawkish in the 
morning; nor can he be easy in body or mind, till 
he has renewed his dose, and again put himself 
beyond the reach of reflection. I would, there- 
fore, intreat you by all means to avoid a habit, 
which will at once ruin your health, and impair 
your intellects. It is a misfortune, that society 
should be esteemed dull and insipid without 
the assistance of the bottle to enliven it : so that 
a man cannot entirely refrain from his glass, 
if he keeps any company at all. But let it be 
remembered, that in drinking, as well as in 



No. 83.2 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



141 



talking, we ought always to "keep a watch 
over the doors of our lips." 

A lounger is a creature, that you will often 
see lolling in a coffee-house, or sauntering about 
the streets, with great calmness, and a most in- 
flexible stupidity in his countenance. He takes 
as much pains as the sot, to fly from his own 
thoughts ; and is at length happily arrived at 
the highest pitch of indolence both in body and 
mind. He would be as inoffensive as he is dull, 
if it were not that his idleness is contagious ; for, 
like the torpedo, he is sure to benumb and take 
away all sense of feeling from every one, with 
whom he happens to come in contact. 

It were also best to forbear the company of a 
wrangler, or a person of a litigious temper. 
This sometimes arises, not from any great share 
of ilLnature, but from a vain pride of showing 
one's parts, or skill in argumentation. It is 
frequently observed of young academics in par- 
ticular, that they are very apt impertinently to 
engage people in a dispute, whether they "will or 
not. But this is contrary to all the rules of 
good-breeding, and is never practised by any 
man of sense, that has seen much of the world. 
I have sometimes known a person of great sau- 
cincss, and volubility of expression, confuted by 
the Argurnentum Baculinum, and both his head 
and his syllogism broken at the same time. 

I need not point out to you the profligate rake 
or the affected coxcomb, as persons from whose 
company you can reap no sort of benefit. From 
the first the good principles already instilled into 
you, will doubtless preserve you ; and I am sure 
you have too much real sense, not to despise the 
absurd fopperies of the latter. Noted liars are 
no less to be avoided, as the common pests of so- 
ciety. They are often of a mischievous disposi- 
tion, and by their calumnies and false sugges- 
tions, take a pleasure in setting the most inti- 
mate friends at variance. But if they only deal 
in harmless and improbable lies, their acquaint- 
ance must frequently be out of countenance for 
them ; and if we should venture to repeat after 
them, I am sure it is the way to be out of coun- 
tenance for ourselves. 

But above all, I must advise you never to en- 
gage, at least not ^vith any degree of violence, in 
any party. Be not transported by the clamor- 
ous jollity of talking patriots beyond the sober 
dictates of reason and justice ; nor let the insi- 
nuating voice of cori'uption tempt you to barter 
your integrity and peace of mind for the paltry 
satisfaction of improving your fortune. If you 
behave with honour and prudence, you will be 
regarded and courted by all parties ; but if other- 
wise, you will certainly be despised by all. Per- 
haps, indeed, if you should hereafter engage in 
elections, and spend your own money to support 
another's cause, the person in whose interest 
you are may shake you by the hand, and swear 
you are a very honest gentleman ; just as but- 



chers treat their bull-dogs, who spit in theii* 
mouths, clap them on the back, and then halloo 
them on to be tossed and torn by the horns of 
their antagonist. 

After having guarded you against the evil in-, 
fluence of your own sex, I cannot conclude with- 
out throwing in a word or two concerning the 
ladies. But that I may not be thought unman- 
nerly to the fair, I shall pass over their faults, 
only hoping, that their excellences will not 
tempt you to precipitate a match with one much 
your inferior in birth and fortune, though " en- 
dowed with every accomplishment requisite to 
make the marriage state happy." In these hasty 
and unequal matches it sometimes happens, that 
mutual love gives way to mutual reproaches. 
We may, perhaps, too late repent of our bai*- 
gain : and though repentance be an excellent 
visiting friend, when she reminds us of our past 
miscarriages, and prescribes rules how to avoid 
them for the future, yet she is a most trouble- 
some companion, when fixed upon us for life. 
I am, dear Sir, 

Your sincere friend, &c. 

H. A. 



No. 83.] Thursday, Aug. 28, 1755. 



Tot pariter pelves, tot tintinnahula dicas 

Pulsari. Juf. 

Rough repitition roars in rudest rhjTne, 
As clappers chinkle in one charming chime. 

Since genius is the chief requisite in all kinds of 
poetrj'^, nothing can be more contrary to the very 
essence of it, than the adopting, as beauties, cer- 
tain arts, which are merely mechanical. There 
are daily arising many whimsical excellences, 
which have no foundation in nature, but are 
only countenanced by the present mode of writ- 
ing. "With these it is as easy to fill our compo- 
sitions, as to dress ourselves in the fashion ; but 
the writer who puts his work together in this 
manner is no more a poet than his tailor. Such 
productions often betray great labour and exact- 
ness, but show no genius ; for those who sit 
down to write by rule, and follow " dry receipts 
how poems should be made," may compose their 
pieces without the least assistance from the ima- 
gination ; as an apothecary's 'prentice, though 
unable to cure any disease, can make up medi- 
cines from the physician's prescription, with no 
moi-e knowledge of physic than the names of the 
drugs. Thus the muse, that ought to fly, and 
" ascend the brightest heaven of invention," 
walks in leading strings, or is supported by a 
go-cart. 

Among the many poetical tricks of this sort, 
none have been more successfully practised, or 



143 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 83. 



had more advocates and admirers, than a cer- 
tain fantastical conceit, called alliteration, 
which is nothing more than beginning two, 
three, or perhaps every word in a line with the 
same letter. This method of running divisions 
upon the alphabet, and pressing particular letters 
into the service, has been accounted one of the 
first excellences in versification, and has, in- 
deed, received the sanction of some of our best 
poets ; but wherein the beauty of it consists, is 
something difficult to discover, since Quarles or 
Withers might practise it with as much adroit- 
ness as Dryden or Spenser. It is one of those 
modern arts in poetry which require no fancy, 
judgment, or learning in the execution: for an 
author may huddle the same letters on each 
other again and again, as mechanically as the 
printer selects his types, and ranges them in 
•whatsoever order he pleases. 

This partial attachment to particular letters 
is a kind of contrast to the famous Odyssey of 
Tryphiodorus, where every letter in the alpha- 
bet was in its turn excluded; and the allitera- 
tor must be as busily employed to introduce his 
favourite vowel or consonant, as the Greek poet 
to shut out the letter he had proscribed. No- 
thing is esteemed a greater beauty in poetry, 
than a happy choice of epithets; but allitera- 
tion reduces all the elegances of expression to a 
very narroAV compass. Epithets are culled, in- 
deed, with great exactness ; but the closest rela- 
tion they are intended to bear to the word to 
■which tliey are joined, is that the initials are 
the same. Thus the fields must be flowery, 
beauty must be beaming, ladies must be lovely ; 
atid in the same manner must the " Avaves wind 
their watery way," the "blustering blasts blow," 
and "locks all loosely lay," not for the sake of 
the poetry, but the elegance of the alliteration. 
This beauty has also taken possession of many 
of our tragedies ; and I have seen ladies wooed 
and heroes killed in it ; though I must own 1 
never hear an actor dying with deadly darts 
and fiery llames, &c. but it always puts me in 
mind of the celebrated pippin woman in Gay's 
Trivia, whose head, when it was severed from 
her body, rolled along the ice crying pip, pip, 
pip, and expired in alliteration. 

The same false taste in writing, "that wings 
display'd and altars rais'd," also introduced alli- 
teration ; and acrostics in particular are the 
same kind of spelling-book poetry. It is, there- 
fore, somewhat extraordinary, that those su- 
blime writers who have disgraced their pages 
with it, did not leave this as well as the other 
barbarous parts of literature to the Goths in 
poetry, since it is a whimsical beauty, below 
the practice of any writer, superior to him who 
turned the jEneid into monkish verses. Shak- 
speare, who was more indebted to nature than 
art, has ridiculed this low trick with great Im- 



mour, in his burlesque tragedy of Pyramus 
and Thisbe. Besides that noted passage, 

With blade, with bloody blameful blade. 
He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody breast 

He before introduces a mock rant, which Bot- 
tom calls Erdes' vein, which is not only rank 
fustian, but is also remarkable for its allitera- 
tion. " To make all split the raging rocks, and 
shivering shocks shall break the locks of prison 
gates — and Phibbus' car shall shine from far, 
and make and mar the foolish fates." In this 
strange style have whole poems been written ; 
and every learned reader will recollect on this 
occasion the Pugna Purcorum per P. Porcium 
Pclagiuni Poekmiy which I wish some of our 
poetasters would translate, in the true spirit of 
the original, and praise pigs and pork with all 
the beauties of alliteration. 

The adA'ocates and admirers of this practice 
have asserted, that it adds significance and 
strength of expression to their verses : but I 
fear this boasted energy seldom appears to the 
reader. The alliteration either remains unre- 
garded, or, if it is very striking, disgusts those 
who perceive it ; and is often in itself, from 
such a disagreeable cluster of the same letters, 
harsh and uncouth. There are many instances, 
where alliteration, though studiously intio- 
duced, renders the versification rough and in- 
harmonious ; and I will appeal to the greatest 
lovers of it, whether the following line, where 
the repetition was scarce intended, is one of the 
most pleasing in all Virgil's works ; 

Ncu patriae Validtts in Viscera Vertiie Vires. 

Wound not with Vigour Vast the Vitals of the Weat 

It must be acknowledged, that there is some- 
thing very mechanical in the whole construc- 
tion of the numbers in most of our modern 
poetry. Sound is more attended to than sense, 
and the words are expected to express more 
than the sentiment. There are set rules to 
make verses run off glibly, or drawl slowly on ; 
and I have read many a poem with scarce one 
tolerable thought in it, that has contained all 
these excellences of versification : for which 
reason, I must confess myself no friend to those 
critics who analyze words and syllables, and 
discover latent beauties in every letter, when 
the author intended that the whole should be 
taken together. Poetry should seem at least to 
flow freely from the imagination, and not to be 
squeezed from the droppings of the brain. If 
we would endeavour to acquire a full idea of 
what we mean to describe, we should then, of 
course, express ourselves with force, elegance, 
and perspicuity ; and this native strength of 
expression would have more true energy than 
elaborate phrases, and a quaint and studied com- 
bination of words and lettei's. Fine numbers are 



No. 84.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



143 



undoubtedly one of the chief beauties in poetry ; 
but to make the sound echo to the sense, we 
should make the sense our chief object. This 
appears to me to have been the manly practice of 
the ancients, and of our own Shakspeare, 
Milton, &c. who breathed the true spirit of 
poetry, without having recourse to little tricks 
and mean artifices, w^hich only serve to disgrace 
it. A good Trriter who -would be above trifling 
even with a thought, would never pursue words, 
and play with letters, but leave such a childish 
employment for the small fry of rhymers, who 
amuse themselves with anagrams and crambo. 
The true poet trusts to his natural ear and 
strong conception, and knows that the versilica- 
tion is adapted to the sentiment, without culling 
■particular letters, and stringing themi on his 
lines ; as he is sure that his verses are j ust mea- 
sure, without scanning them on his fingers. 

There are almost daily published certain 
Lilliputian volumes, entitled Pretty Books for 
Children. A friend of mine, who considers the 
little rhymers of the age as only " children of a 
larger gi'owth," that amuse themselves -with 
rhymes instead of rattles, proposes to publish a 
small pocket A'olume for the use of our poet- 
asters. It will be a Treatise on the Art of 
Poetry adapted to the meanest capacities, for 
which subscriptions will be taken, and speci- 
mens may be seen, at George's and the Bedford 
coffee-houses. It will contain full directions 
how to modulate the numbers on every occasion, 
and w^ill instruct the young scribbler in all the 
modern arts of versification. He will here meet 
with infallible rules how to soften a line and lull 
us to sleep with liquids and diphthongs ; to 
roughen the verse and make it roar again with 
reiteration of the letter R ; to set it hissing with 
semi-vowels ; to make it pant and breathe short 
with a hundred heavy aspirates ; or clog it up 
with the thickest double consonants and mono- 
syllables : with a particular table of alliteration 
containing the choicest epithets, disposed into 
alphabetical order ; so that any substantive may 
be readily paired Trith a Avord beginning with 
the same letter, which (though a mere expletive) 
shall seem to carry more force and sentiment in 
it, than any other of a more relative meaning, 
but more distant sound. The whole to be illus- 
trated with examples from the modern poets. 
This elaborate work will be published about the 
middle of the winter, under the title of The 
RhjTner's Play-thing, or Poetaster's Horn 
Book ; since there is nothing necessary to form 
such a poet, except teaching him his letters. 

T. 



No. 84.] Thursday, Sept. 4, 1755. 



Tu, dum tua navis in alto est. 

Hoc age. . 



Think, sailors, think, though landmen are your hate. 
Who likes a mere tarpaulin but his mate ? 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



You obliged the world some time ago with a few- 
reflections on the gentlemen of the army : at the 
present juncture, a word or two on our sea- 
ofiicers would not be unseasonable. I do not 
mean, that you should presume to direct them 
how to behave in their several stations, but 
rather to remark on their conduct and conversa- 
tion in private life, as far as they are influenced 
by their maritime characters. There is a cer- 
tain unfashionable dye, which their manners 
often take from the salt water, that tinctures 
their whole behaviour on shore. If you could 
assist in blotting out these stains, and give a 
new colour to their conduct, you would add 
gi-ace and politeness to their ordinary conversa- 
tion, and would be of as much service to our 
naval commanders in this point, as he -was to 
navigation in general, who first invented the 
compass. 

As the conversation of those fair-weather fop- 
lings, many of whom may be met with in the 
three regiments of guards, is usually flat and 
insipid, that of our sea-officers is turbulent and 
boisterous : and as a trip to Paris has, perhaps 
over-refined the coxcomb in red, a voyage round 
the globe frequently brutalizes the seaman, who 
comes home so rough and unpolished, that one 
would imagine he had not visited any nation in 
the world, except the Savages or the Hottentots. 
The many advantages he has received from 
having seen the customs and manners of so 
many different people, it is natural to suppose, 
would render his conversation very desirable, as 
being in itself particularly instructive and enter- 
taining ; but this roughness, which clings to the 
seaman's behaviour like tar to his trowsers, 
makes him unfit for all civil and polite society. 
He behaves at an assembly, as if he was upon 
deck ; and his whole deportment manifestly be- 
trays, that he is, according to the common 
phrase, quite out of his element. Nor can you 
collect any more from him concerning the seve- 
ral nations he has visited, than if he had been 
during the whole time confined to his cabin ; 
and he seems to know as little of them as the 
fine gentleman of his travels after the polite 
tour, when he has, for the sake of improvement, 
rid post through all Europe. 

That our ordinary seamen, who are many of 
them draughted from the very lowest of the po- 
pulace, should be thus uncivilized is no wonder. 
The common sailor's education in Tottenham 
Court, or at Hockley in the Hole, has not quali- 
fied him to improve by just reflections on what 
he sees during his voyage; and going on board a 
man of war is a kind of university education, 
suitably adapted to the principles imbibed in the 



144 



THE CO>^NOISSEUR. 



[No. 84. 



polite seminaries, which he came from. A com- 
mon sailor too is full as polite as a common sol- 
dier, and behave as genteelly to a Wapping land- 
lady, as the gentleman soldier, at a suttling- 
house. But surely theie ought to be as much 
difference in the behaviour of the commander 
and his crew, as there is in their situation ; and 
it is beneath the dignity of the Bi'itish flag to 
have an admiral behave as rudely as a swabber, 
or a commodore as foul-mouthed as a boatswain. 

It may perhaps be alleged in excuse, that the 
being placed among such a boisterous set of peo- 
ple as our common sailors, must unavoidably 
wear off all politeness and good manners : as it 
is remarkable, that all those w^ho are employed 
in the cai'e of horses grow as mere brutes as the 
animals they attend ; and as we may often ob- 
serve those justices, "whose chief business is the 
examination of highwaymen, house-breakers, 
and street-walkers, become as vulgar and foul- 
mouthed as a pick-pocket. As there may be 
some truth in this, the commander should there- 
fore be still more on his guard to preserve the 
gentleman in his behaviour, and like the sea it- 
self, when the storm is over, grow smooth and 
calm. It is accounted a piece of humour on the 
Thames to abuse the other passengers on the 
w^ater ; and there are certain set terms of abuse, 
which fly to and fro from one boat to another on 
this occasion. A wag might perhaps amuse 
himself with this water-language in his voyage 
to Vauxhall, but must be a very siUy fellow in- 
deed, to think of carrying the joke on shore with 
him. In the same manner some roughness may 
perhaps be necessary to keep the crew in order; 
but it is absurd for an officer to retain his harsh- 
ness in polite company ; and is in a manner tying 
his friends up to the yard-arm, and disciplining 
his acquaintance with the cat-of-nine tails. 

But the worst part of this maritime character 
is a certain invincible contempt, which they 
often contract for all mankind, except their fel- 
low-seamen. They look on the rest of the world 
as a set of fresh- water wretches, who could be 
of no service in a storm or an engagement ; and 
from an unaccountable obstinacy ai-e particularly 
fleaf tn any proposals of new improvements in 
navigation : though experience daily teaches 
them the great use of the discoveries already 
made, and how much room there is for more. 
They have no notion, how studious men can sit 
at home, and devise charts and instruments to 
direct them in their course ; they despise those 
ingenious persons, who w^ould assist them in 
their undertakings, while they consider them 
with the utmost contempt, as going round the 
w^orld in their closets, and sailing at sea in their 
elbow chairs. It is no less shameful than true, 
that the ventilator, one of the most beneficial in- 
ventions that ever was devised, wiis first oflered 
to the service of our men of war, and rejected. 
It was first used in foreign ships, then by our 



merchantmen, and last of all among our men of 
^vai', to whose use it w^as first recommended. 
This is a strong proof of that fatal obstinacy, 
which oiu- sea-commanders ai"e too apt to con- 
tract ; and as a further instance of it, I have been 
told of an admiral's indignation on this subject, 
venting itself in the following marmer : " A pack 
of blockheads," said he, " sit poring, and pretend 
to make improvements for oui' use. They tell 
you that they discover this, and discover that ; 
but I tell you they are all fools. — For instance 
now, they say the world is round ; every one of 
them says the world is round ; — but I have been 
aU round the world, and it is as fiat as this 
table." 

The unpolished behaviour of our sea officers 
is in a gi'eat measure o^viug to their being often 
sent to sea very young, with little or no educa- 
tion beyond what they have received at the aca- 
demy of Woolwich or Portsmouth. A lad of 
good family, but imtoward parts, or mischievous 
disposition, who has been flogged for a- while at 
the grammar school, or snubbed by his parents 
and friends at home, is frequently clapped on 
board a ship in order to tame him, and to teach 
hitTi better manners. Here perhaps he at first 
messes with the lo^vest of the seamen ; and all 
that the young gentleman can learn from, his jol- 
ly mess-mates iu the course of two or three voy- 
ages, is to drink flip, sing a bawdy catch, and 
dance a hornpipe. These genteel accomplish- 
ments he is sure to retain, as he grows old in the 
service ; and if he has the good fortune to rise to 
a command, he is as sm'ly and brutal when ad- 
vanced to the cabin, as when he was tugging be- 
fore the mast. 

After all it is but justice to confess, that there 
are many among our sea-officei*s, who deserved- 
ly bear the character of gentlemen and scholars ; 
and it is easy to perceive, Avith how much better 
grace they appear in the world than the rest of 
their brethren, who, when laid up and taken out 
of service, are as mere logs as the main mast. 
An officer Avho has any relish for reading, will 
employ the many vacant hours, in which he is 
relieved from duty, much more to his improve- 
ment and satisfaction, than iu sauntering be- 
tween the decks, or muddling over a bowl of 
punch. I would, therefore, seriously recommend 
it to these young sailors, who have the happiness 
to launch forth with a genteel and liberal edu- 
cation, not to suffer every trace of it to be wash- 
ed away, like words wTitten on the sands ; but 
that, when they return from sea, they may be fit 
to be admitted at St. James's, as well as at 
Wapping or Rotherhithe. 

Before I conclude, I must beg leave to say a 
word or t\vo concerning our sea-chaplains. The 
common sailors are known to have, when on 
board, a very serious regard for religion : and 
their decent behaviour at prayers, and sedate at- 
tention to the sei'mon upon quarter-deck, uiiglit 



No. 85.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



i*,*; 



shame a more polite audience at St. James's 
Church. For this reason a truly religious chap- 
lain, of good morals and soher conversation, 
will necessarily have as much influence on their 
behaviour, as a mild and prudent commander. 
Nor can a clergyman be too circumspect in this 
point ; since, if he does not act in every respect 
conformable to his function, his place might be 
as well supplied by any one of the unbeneficed 
doctors of the Fleet. In a word, if a chaplain 
will so far divest himself of his sacred character, 
as to drink, swear, and behave in every respect 
like a common sailor, he should be obliged to 
woi'k in the gang-way all the rest of the week, 
and on Sundays, be invested with a jacket and 
trowsers instead of his canonicals. 

I am. Sir, your humble servant, 
O. T. Fore- Castle. 



No. 85.] Thursday, Sept. 11, 1755. 



Anjmorum 



Impulsu, et ccBca magnaque cupidine. 



HOR. 



As the frail dame now love, now reason guides, 
The magic mixture rises or subsides. 

So long ago as my fourth number (the reader 
perhaps may not remember) I made mention of 
a female thermometer, constructed by my inge- 
nious friend Mr. James Ayscough, optician, on 
Ludgate-hill ; and I then informed the public, 
that " the liquor contained within the tube was 
a chemical mixture, which being acted upon by 
the circulation of the blood and animal spirits, 
would rise and fall according to the desires and 
affections of the wearer." But I have now the 
further satisfaction to acquaint my fair readers, 
that after several repeated trials and improve- 
ments we have at length brought the instrument 
to so great a degree of perfection, that any com- 
mon by-stander may, by a proper application of 
it, know the exact temperature of a lady's pas- 
sions. The liquor, among other secret ingre- 
dients, is distilled secundum artem from the herbs 
lady's love and maiden hair, the wax of virgin 
beas, and the five greater hot and cold seeds : 
and the properties of it are so subtle and pene- 
trating, that immediately on its coming within 
the atmosphere of a lady's affections, it is actu- 
ated by them in the same manner, as the spirits 
are by the impulse of the air in the common 
thermometer. 

It was net without some difficulty, that we 
could settle the different degrees of heat and 
cold in a lady's desires, which it would be proper 
to delineate on our thermonceter ; but at last we 
found, that the whole scale of female characters 
might be I'educed to one or other of the follow- 
ing, viz. 



Abandoned IMPUDENCE. 

. Gallantrt/. 

. Loose Beliavlour. 

. . . . Innocent Freedoms. 

. . . . Indiscretions. 

Inviolable MODESTY. 

From these degrees, which we have accurately 
marked on the side of the tube, we have been 
able to judge of the characters of several ladies, 
on whom we have made the experiment. In 
some of these we have found the gradations very 
sudden ; and that the liquor has risen very fast 
from the lowest point to the highest. We could 
likewise discovei', that it was differently affected 
according to the diffei'ent station and quality of 
the subject ; so that the same actions, which in 
a lady of fashion scarce raised the liquor beyond 
indiscretions, in another caused it to mount al- 
most to impudence. Much also depended upon 
the air and temperature of the place, where we 
made our trials : and even the dress had some 
influence on our thermometer ; as we frequently 
observed, that the rise and fall of the liquor in 
the tube bore an exact proportion to the rise and 
fall of the stays and petticoat. 

I shall now proceed to give a succinct account 
of the many repeated experiments, which we 
have made on different subjects in different 
places. During the winter season we had fre- 
quent opportunities of trying the effects, which 
the play-house, the opera, and other places of 
diversion might have on the thermometer. 

At the play-house we always found the liquor 
rise in proportion as the drama was more or less 
indecent or immoral : at some comedies, and 
particularly the Chances, its elevation kept pace 
exactly with the lusciousness of the dialogue, 
and the ripening of the plot ; so that it has often 
happened, that with some subjects, at the opening 
of the play, the liquor has struggled awhile, and 
rose and sunkaboutthe degrees just above modes- 
ty ; before the third act it has stood suspended at 
the middle point between modesty and impudence; 
in the fourth act it has advanced as far as loose 
behaviour ; and at the conclusion of the play it 
has settled at downright impudence. At public 
concerts, and the opera especially, we observed 
that the thermometer constantly kept time (if I 
may say so) with the music and singing; and 
both at the opera and the play-house, it always 
regulated its motions by the dancer's heels. We 
liave frequently made trials of our instrument 
at the masquerades in the Hay-market ; but 
the temperature of that climate always proved 
so exceeding hot, that on the moment of our 
coming into the room the liquor has boiled up 
with a surprising effervescence to abandoned 
impudence. 

During the summer season we have not 
failed to mark our observations on the company 
U 



116 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 86. 



at the public gardens. Here we found, indeed, 
that with some raw unpolished females, who 
came only to eat cheese-cakes and see the cas- 
cade and fire-works, the liquor did not stir 
beyond modesty ; with many it has crept up to 
indiscretions; and with some it has advanced 
to loose behaviour. We had no opportunity to 
ti-y our thermometer in the dark walks ; but 
■with some subjects we have plainly perceived 
the liquor hastening up towards innocent free- 
doms, as they wire retiring to these walks from 
the rest of the company ; while with others, 
who have gone the same way, it has only con- 
tinued to point (as it did at the beginning of 
our observations) at gallantry. One young 
lady in particular we could not help remarking, 
whom we followed into Vauxhall, gallanted by 
an oflficer. We were glad to see, at her first 
going in, that the liquor, though it now and 
then faintly aspired towards indiscretions, still 
gravitated back again to modesty: after they 
had taken a turn or two in the walks, we per- 
ceived it fluctuating between innocent freedoms 
and loose behaviour: after this we lost sight of 
them for some time; and at the conclusion of 
the entertainment (as we followed them out) 
we could not without concern observe, that the 
liquor was hastily bubbling up to a degree next 
to impudence. 

Besides the experiments on those ladies, who 
frequent the public places of diversion, we have 
been no less careful in making remarks at seve- 
ral private routs and assemblies. We were 
here at first very much surprised at the extreme 
degree of cold, which our thermometer seemed 
to indicate in several ladies, who were seated 
round the card-tables ; as we found not the 
least alteration in it either from the young or 
old ; but we at last concluded, that this Avas 
owing to their love of play, which had totally 
absorbed all their other passions. We have, 
indeed, more than once perceived, that when a 
lady lias risen from cards after so much ill luck 
as to have involved hei'self in a debt of honour 
to a gentleman, the thermometer has been sur- 
prisingly affected ; and as she has been handed 
to her chair, we have known the liquor which 
before was quite stagnate, run up instanta- 
neously to the degree of gallantry. We have 
also been at the trouble to try its efficacy in the 
long rooms at Bath, Tunbridge, Cheltenham, 
&c. and we have found, that these places have 
brought about surprising changes in the consti- 
tutions of those sick ladies, who go thither for 
the benefit of the waters. 

Having thus sufficiently proved the perfec- 
tion of our thermometer, it only remains to 
acquaint my readers, that Mr. Ayscough will 
be ready to supply the public with these useful 
instruments, as soon as the town fills. In the 
meantime I would advise those ladies, who 
liiive the least regard for their characters, to 



reflect that the gradations, as marked on our 
thermometer, natuiaUy lead to each other; that 
the transitions from the lowest to the highest 
are quick and obvious ; and that though it is 
very easy to advance, it is impossible to regulate 
their passions in such a manner, as that their 
conduct may be always consistent with decency 
and honour, and (as Shakspeare says) " not step- 
ping o'er the bounds of modesty." I shall con- 
clude with observing, that these thermometers 
are designed only for the ladies : for though we 
imagined at first, that they might serve equally 
for the men, we have found reason to alter our 
opinion ; since, in the course of several fruit- 
less experiments on our own sex, there has 
scarce appeared any medium in them between 
modesty and impudence. 



No. 86.] Thursday, Sept. 18, 1755. 



• Via sacra, sknit metis est mos. 



Nescio quid meditans nugarum, tottts in ill's. Hoa. 

I range in quest of knowledge every street. 
And study arts at Ludgate or the Fleet 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



It has been generally imagined, that learning is 
only to be acquired in the closet, by turning 
over a great number of pages : for which reason 
men have been assiduous to heap together a 
parcel of dusty volumes, and our youth have 
been sent to study at the universities ; as if 
knowledge was shut up in a library, and chain- 
ed to the shelves together with the folios. This 
prejudice has made every one overlook the most 
obvious and ready means of coming at litera- 
ture : while (as the v/ise man has remarked) 
" wisdom crieth without ; she uttereth her voice 
in the streets ; she crieth in the chief place of 
concourse, in the openings of the gates : in the 
city she uttereth her words, and no man re- 
gardeth her." Every lane teems with instruc- 
tion, and every alley is big with erudition : 
though the ignorant or incurious passer-by shuts 
his eyes against that universal volume of arts 
and sciences, which constantly lies open before 
him in the highways and bye-places, like the 
laws of the Romans, which were hung up in 
the public streets. 

You must know, Mr. Town, that I am a 
very hard student ; and have perhaps gleaned 
more knowledge from my reading, than any of 
your poring fellows of colleges, though I was 
never possessed of so much as a horn-book. In 
the course of my studies I have followed the 
example of the ancient Peripatetics, who used 
to study walking ; and as I had not the advan- 
tnge to bo brought up a scholar, I have been 



No. 86.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



147 



obliged, like the Lacedaemonian children, to the 
public for my education. My tirst relish for 
letters T got by conning over those elegant mo- 
nosj'llables, which are chalked out upon walls 
and gates, and which (as pretty books for chil- 
dren are adorned with cuts) are generally en- 
forced and explained by curious hieroglyphics in 
caricature. I soon made a further progress in 
the alphabet by staring up at the large letters 
upon play-bills, and advertisements for stage 
coaches and waggons ; till at length 1 was en- 
abled to make out the inscriptions upon signs, 
bills on empty houses, and the titles on rubric 
posts. From these I proceeded gradually to 
higher branches of literature; and my method 
has since been to visit the philobiblian libraries, 
and other learned stalls, and the noble collec- 
tions at Moor- fields ; in which choice reposito- 
ries I have with infinite pleasure and advantage 
run over the elaborate systems of ancient divines, 
politicians, and philosophers, which have escaped 
the fury of pastry-cooks and trunk-makers. As 
for the modern writings of pamphleteers and 
magazine compilei's, I make it my business to 
take my rounds every morning at the open shops 
about the Royal Exchange ; where I never fail 
to run through every thitig, fresh as it comes 
out. Thus, for example, I make a shift to squint 
over the first page of the Connoisseur, as it lies 
before me, at Mrs. Cooke's ; at the next shop I 
steal a peep at the middle pages ; at another, 
proceed on to the fourth or fifth ; and perhaps 
return again to conclude it at Mrs. Cooke's. 
By the same means I am myself become a Con- 
noisseur likewise ; and you will be surprised 
when I assure you, that I have a great variety 
of the finest prints and paintings, and am master 
of a more curious set of nicknacks, than are to 
be found in Sir Hans Sloane's collection. For, 
as I constantly survey the windows of every 
print-shop, and attend every auction, I look 
upon every curiosity as actually in my posses- 
sion : and you will agree with me, that while I 
have the opportunity of seeing them, the real 
owners cannot have more satisfaction in locking 
them up in cabinets and museums. 

It is recorded of Democritus, that he tran- 
scribed a system of ethics from the columns of 
Acicarus in Babylonia : in like manner you will 
conclude, that the knowledge which I have thus 
picked out of the streets, has been very exten- 
sive. I have gone through a complete course of 
physic by perusing the learned treatise of Dr. 
Rock, and other eminent practitioners, pasted 
up at the entrance of alleys and bye places. I 
have learned at every corner, that the scurvy is 
a popular disease, — that the bloody flux cannot 
be cured by any of the faculty, except the gentle- 
woman at the Blue Posts in Haydon -yard ; 
that nervous diseases were never so frequent, 
and that the royal family and most of our nobi- 
lity are troubled with corns. I was completely 



grounded in politics by stopping at Temple-bar 
every morning to read the Gazetteer, which 
used to be stuck up there to the great emolument 
of the hackney-coach mien, upon their stands. 
But above all, I have acquired the most sublime 
notions of religion by listening attentively to the 
spirited harangues of our most eminent field - 
preachers : and I confess myself highly obliged 
to the itinerant miissionaries of Whitfield, Wes- 
ley, and Zinzendorf, who have instructed us in 
the New Light from empty barrels and joint- 
stools. Next to these, I have received great im- 
provements from the vociferous retailers of 
poetry; as I constantly used to thrust myself 
into the circle gathered round them, and listen 
to their ditties, till I could carry away both the 
words and the tune. I have likewise got some 
notion of the drama by attending the theatres ; 
though my finances were too scanty for me ever 
to get admittance even among the gods iu the 
upper regions of the twelvepenny gallery. I 
therefore had recourse to the following practice: 
1 would contrive to hear one act at the outside 
of one of the pit doors ; the next act I took my 
stand at the other ; and as the author generally 
rises in the middle, I could catch the most tear- 
ing parts during the third act in the passage to 
the two-shilling gallery: in the fourth act the 
rants came tolerably loud to my ear at the en- 
trance of the upper gallery ; and I very atten- 
tively listened to the i)athetic, at the conclusion 
of the play, with the footmen in the lobby. 

Endowed with so much learning, you will 
doubtless be curious to know to what purposes 
I have turned it. Almost before I could read 
at all, I got into the service of a very eminent 
doctor of physic, who employed me in sticking 
up his bills and slipping them slily into the 
hands of spindle-shanked young fellows, as they 
passed by. After this, by closely studying these 
elegant compositions, I got together a sufficient 
set of medical phrases, which (by the help of 
Bailey's Dictionary) enabled me to draw up 
bills and affidavits for those doctors who are not 
so happy as to be able to write or read. I was 
next promoted to the garret of a printer of bloody 
murders, where my business was to invent ter- 
rible stories, write Yorkshire tragedies, and oc- 
casionally to put the ordinary of Newgate's ac- 
count of dying speeches into lamentable rhyme. 
I was afterwards concerned in works, that re- 
quired a greater fund of erudition, such as bog- 
house miscellanies, and little books for children : 
and I was once engaged as the principal com- 
piler of a three half-penny magazine. Since that 
I followed the occupation of an eaves-dropper, or 
collector of news for the daily papers ; in which 
I turned a good penny by hunting after marriages 
and deaths, and inventing lies for the day. Once 
indeed, being out of other business, I descended to 
the mean office of a ballad-singer, and hawked my 
own verses ; but not having a good car to music, 



148 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 87. 



and the tone of my voice being rather inclined 
to whining, I converted my ballads into peniten- 
tial hymns, and took up the vocation of metho- 
dist preacher. In this station 1 made new con- 
verts every day among the old women by my 
sighs and groans, who in return contributed 
their half-pence, which I disposed of in charity 
to myself: but I was at last beat off the field 
by a journeyman shoemaker, who fairly out- 
whined me ; and finding myself deserted by my 
usual audience, I became setter to a Fleet 
parson. 

My employment now was to take my stand at 
the end of Fleet-market, and whenever I saw 
any gaping young couple staring about them, to 
whisper them softly in the ear, and ask them 
whether they wanted to be married. Whenever 
the ceremony was performed, I officiated as clerk 
and father to give away the bride ; and Avhen 
my master the doctor died, 1 made a shift to 
purchase his entire stock in trade, (consisting of 
a rusty cassock, an old grizzle wig, and one 
lappet of a band) and succeeded him in his bene- 
fice of the Hand-and-Pen chapel, I now got a 
more comfortable subsistence than many regu- 
larly ordained curates in the coTintry ; but the 
marriage act soon after taking place, I was flung 
out of employ ; and as the primate of May-fair, 
the reverend Dr. Keith, is forced to sell snufF in 
the Fleet-prison, I have been obliged to retail 
gin in a night-cellar. 

Thus, Mr. Town, have I set before you the 
progress I have made in literature, as well as 
the particular circumstances of my life, in hopes 
they will induce you to recommend me to the 
notice of the public. As the parliament has 
not thought fit to make any provision for the 
poor distressed clergy of the Fleet, I intend to 
open a new oratory chapel in Fleet-market, to 
be conducted on the same principles with that 
established in Clare-market ; and for which I 
flatter myself, I shall appear no less qualified by 
my education, than the renowned Henley or 
any of his butchers. I shall, therefore, beg 
leave to subscribe myself, hoping for your coun- 
tenance and protection. 

Your very humble Servant, 

T. Orator Higgins. 



No. 87. 



Thursday, Sept. 25, 1755. 



Qnitl digttum tanlo tibi ventre guaque prccabor ? 

Mart. 

So wide a swallow, and so vast a paunch. 
Say, what shall cram ! a turbot, or a haunch ? 

Eating and drinking being absolutely requisite 
to keep our crazy frames together, Ave are 
obliged to attend to the calls of nature, and 



satisfy the regular cravings of the appetite j 
though it is, in truth, but a very small part of 
the world that eat because they are hungry, or 
drink because they are dry. The common day 
labourer may, indeed, be glad to snatch a hasty 
meal with his wife and children, that he may 
have strength to return to his work ; and the 
porter finds it necessary to refresh himself with 
a full pot of entire butt, while he rests his load 
upon the bulk at the ale-house door. But those 
who have more leisure to study what they shall 
eat and drink, require something more in their 
food, than what is barely wholesome or neces- 
sary ; their palates must be gratified with rich 
sauces and high-seasoned delicacies ; and they 
frequently have recourse to whetters and provo- 
catives, to anticipate the call of hunger, and to 
enable their stomach to bear the ibAd they lay on 
it. There are a sort of men, whose chief pride 
is a good taste (as they call it) and a great sto- 
mach ; and the whole business of their lives is 
included in their breakfast, dinner and supper. 
These people of whatever rank and denomina- 
tion, whether they regale on turtle, or devour 
shoulders of mutton and peck loaves for wagers, 
whether a duke at White's, or a chairman at 
the Blue- Posts, are certainly of the number of 
those " whom nature," as Sallust tells us, " has 
made, like the brutes, obedient to their bellies," 
and, indeed, partake in some measure of the 
sentence passed on the serpent, " to be cursed 
above all cattle, and to go for ever on their 
bellies. " 

There are many vices and follies which men 
endeavour to hide from the rest of the world ; 
but this, above all others, they take a pride in 
proclaiming, and seem to run about with the 
cap and bells, as if they were ambitious to be 
ranked among the sons of folly. Indeed, as the 
politeness of the French language has distin- 
guished every glutton by the title of Bon Viravt, 
and the courtesy of our own has honoured their 
beastly gluttony by the name of Good Living, 
the epicure thinks to eat and drink himself into 
your good opinion, and recommend himself to 
your esteem by an exquisite bill of fare. How- 
ever this may be, it is remarkable, that as the 
fox-hunter takes delight in relating the incidents 
of the chase, and kills the fox again over a bowl 
of punch at night, so the Bon Vivant enjoys 
giving an account of a delicious dinner, and 
cheAvs the cud of reflection on his exquisite 
entertainment. 

I have been led into these thoughts by an 
acquaintance wliich I have lately made with a 
person, whose Avhole conversation is, literally 
speaking, table-talk. His brain seems to be 
stufi'ed with a hodge-podge of ideas, consisting 
of seAoral dishes, Avhich he is peiT)etually serving 
up for the entertainment of the company. As 
it Avas said of 1 onginus, that he Avas a Avalking 
library, in the same manner I consider this 



No. 87.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



149 



gentleman as a walking larder : and as the ora- 
tions of Demosthenes were said to smell of the 
lamp, so my friend's whole conversation savours 
of the kitchen. He even makes use of his 
stomach as an artificial memory ; and recollects 
every place he has been at, and every person he 
has seen, by some circumistances relating to the 
entertainment he met with. If he caUs to mind 
a particular inn, he adds, " for there the cook 
spoiled a fine turbot ;" another house is recol- 
lected, " because the parson took all the fat of 
the haunch of venison : " he remembers a gentle- 
man you mention, " because he had the small- 
est stomach he ever knew:" or one lady, " be- 
cause she drank a great deal of wine at supper ; " 
and another, "because she has the best receipt for 
making her pickled cucumbers look green." 

His passion for eating also influences aU his 
actions, diversions, and studies. He is fond of 
hare-hunting, as he says his pursuit is animated 
by the hopes of seeing puss smoking on the table; 
but he wonders how any man can venture his 
neck in a chase after a fox, which, when it is 
got, is not worth eating. He has had occasion, 
on account of the disorders which his ruling pas- 
sion has brought upon him, to visit the several 
Wells in the kingdom ; but these he considers 
not as places where persons go to drink the 
waters, but where they go to eat ; and in this 
light he gives a character of them all. " Bath," 
says he, " is one of the best markets in the 
world : at Tunbridge you have fine mutton, and 
most exquisite wheat-ears : but at Cheltenham, 
pox take the place, you have nothing but cow- 
beef, red veal, and white bacon." He looks up- 
on every part of England in the same light ; and 
would as soon go to Cheshire for butter, and 
Suffolk for cheese, as miss eating what each par- 
ticular town or county is famous for having the 
most excellent in its kind. He does not grudge 
to ride twenty miles to dine on a favourite dish; 
and it was but last week, that he appointed a 
friend in Buckinghamshire to meet him at Ux- 
bridge, " which," says he, in his letter, " is the 
best place we can settle our business at, on ac- 
count of those excellent rolls we may have for 
breakfast, and the delicious trout we are sure to 
have at dinner." 

Mr. Cramwell, for that is his name, is so un- 
fortunate as to want a purse adequate to his taste ', 
so that he is obliged to have recourse to severaJ 
artifices to gratify his appetite. For this pur- 
pose he has with great pains constituted a club, 
consisting of persons most likely to promote good 
living. This society is composed of members, 
who are all of some trade fhat can furnish it 
with provisions, except one country squire, Avho 
supplies it with game : and they are obliged to 
send in the best of whatever their trade deals in, 
at prime cost : by which wise management the 
club is supplied with every delicacy the season 
affords, at the most reasonable rates. Mr. 



CramweU, on account of his extraordinary pro- 
ficiency in the science of eating, is honoured with 
the office of perpetual caterer ; and he has arrived 
to such a pitch of accuracy in the calculation of 
what is sufficient, that he seems to gauge the 
stomachs of the club, as an exciseman does a 
cask : so that, when all the members are present, 
they seldom send away three ounces of meat 
from the table. Upon any vacancy, much care 
and deliberation is used in electing a new mem- 
ber. A candidate's being able to devoiu* a whole 
turkey with an equal proportion of chine, or eat 
one haunch of venison with the fat of another as 
sauce to it, vrould be no recommendation : on 
the contrary, there never was more caution used 
at the death of a Pope, to elect a successor who 
appears the most likely to be short-lived, than by 
this society of epicurean hogs to admit nobody 
of a stomach superior to their own. A captain 
of a ship trading to the West-Indies has been 
admitted an honoi'ary member, having contracted 
to bring over, as a present to them, a cargo of 
turtle every voyage ; and a few days ago I met 
CramweU in prodigious high spirits, when he 
told me, that he was the happiest man in the 
world. " Now," says he, " we shall have orto- 
lans as plenty as pigeons ; for it was but yester- 
day, that we balloted into our society one of the 
Flanderldn- Bird- Merchants. " 

This association for the preservation of elegant 
fare gratifies my friend CramweU's luxury at a 
cheap rate : and that he may make as many 
good meals as possible, he often contrives to in- 
troduce himself to the tables of persons of qua- 
lity. This he effects by sending my lord or her 
ladyship a present of a Bath cheese, or a ruff or 
land-rail from his friends in Lincolnshire or 
Somersetshire ; which seldom fails to procure 
him an invitation to dinner. He then plays his 
part as lustily, as if he had kept Lent, or were 
not to make a dinner again for a fortnight. 
He never suffers the smallest side-dish to es- 
cape him : for one is so exceeding good ; an- 
other looks so tempting ; another is so gi-eat a 
rarity : and though he declares he cannot touch 
a bit more, he will make shift to find room for 
this or that dainty because he never tasted it 
in his life. Wherever he goes, he always takes 
care to secure to himself the best share of every 
nicer dish, without the least regard to the rest 
of the company : he will help himself to a 
whole bird, though there are but a brace ; and 
for fear any titbit should be snapped up before 
him, he snatches at it as greedily, as a hun- 
gry Frenchman at an ordinary. It once hap- 
pened, that dining with an alderman his ap- 
petite so far got the better of his good-breed- 
ing, that he shaved off all the outside of a 
plum pudding, and he has ever since been talk- 
ed of in the city by the name of skin-pudding. 

As all his joy and misery constantly arises 
from his belly, he thinks it is the same with 



150 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 88. 



others ; and I heard Inm ask a perfect stranger 
to him, who complained that he a\ as sick, whether 
he had over-eat himself. It is no Avonder that 
Cramwell should be sometimes troubled with the 
gout : 1 called upon him the other morning, and 
found him with his legs wrapped up in flannel, 
and a book lying open before him upon the table. 
On asking him what he was reading, he told me 
he was taking physic ; and on inquiring whose 
advice he had, "Oh," says he, "nobody can 
do me so much good as Mrs. Hannah Glasse. 
I am here going through a course of her Art of 
Cookery, in hopes to get a stomach : for indeed, 
my dear friend," added he, with tears in his 
eyes, " my appetite is quite gone ; and I am 
sure I shall die, if 1 do not find something in 
this book, which I think I can eat." O. 



No. 88.] Thursday, Oct. 2, 1755. 



Fuit hand ifi;nobilis Argis, 



Qui sc crcdcbat miros audire tragocdos. 

Jn vacuo Icetus scssor plausorque theatro. 

Hie tihi cognatoruTTi opibus curisque rcfcctus 

Ei-pulit kdlehoro vwrhum bilemque mcraco, 

Et rcdit ad sese ; — Pol me occidistis, amid, 

Noti scrvdsiis, ail j cut sic extorta vohiplas. 

El dcmplus per vitn inentis gralissimus e7Tor. Hor. 

A wiglit there was, whose mad distemper'd brain 
Convey'd him every night to Drury-Lane: 
Pleased and transported in th' ideal pit 
At fancied tragedies he seem'd to sit. 
Now to his wits by sage Monro restored. 
No thanks, but curses on his friends he pour'd. 
Ye fools ; (he cried) the dear delusion lost, 
My pleasure fled, you've cured me to my cost : 
Seized with such whims, with frenzy so diverting, 
Cruel ! to close the scene, and drop the curtain. 

HoKACE, in the passage quoted at the head of my 
paper, tells us (after Aristotle) of a man, who 
tised to sit in the empty theatre and fancy that 
he saw real exhibitions on the stage. We have 
the like account, in another ancient author, of a 
person that used to wait with great solicitude 
the coming of ships into the harbour, believing 
them to be his own property. The end of these 
madmen was also similar; they were both cured 
—and both complained that they were deprived 
of the satisfaction, which they before enjoyed 
from a pleasing error of their minds. 

That the happiness and misery of the far 
greater part of mankind depend upon the fancy, 
need not be insisted on : Crcdc (jxiod habcx ct 
hnbcs, Think that yoti have, and you have, is a 
maxim not confined to those only within the 
walls of Bedlam. I remember a humorist, 
who would frequently divert himself in the same 
manner with the madmen above-mentioned, and 
supply his real wants by the force of his ima- 
gination. He would go round the markets, and 



suppose himself to be cheapening the most dainty 
provisions ; and when he came home to his 
scanty meal, by the same ideal contrivance he 
would convert his trotters into turbot, and his 
small beer into the most delicious Burgundy. 
As he was a barber by trade, he would put on 
the air and manners of his customers, while he 
combed out their wigs : with every bag he would 
conceive himself going to court or an assembly ; 
and once when he was sick, he got together three 
or four of the largest tyes, placed them upon 
blocks round his bed-side, and called them a 
consultation of physicians. 

But of all others, there are none, perhaps, 
who are more obliged to the imagination for 
their ideal happiness, than the fraternity of 
which I am an imworthy member. There is 
no set of people, who are more ambitious to ap- 
pear grand in the Avorld, and yet have less 
means, than those gentlemen whom the world 
has styled authors. Wit and pride as often go 
hand in hand together, as wit and poverty : but 
though the generality of writers are by the 
frowns of fortune debarred from possessing a 
profuse share of the good things of this world, 
they are abundantly recompensed by enjoying 
them in speculation. They indulge in golden 
dreams, at the time that they have not sixpence 
in their pockets ; and conjure up all the luxuries 
of Pontac's before them, though they ai"e at a 
loss perhaps where to get a dinner. Thus a 
critic, by a kind of magic, will transport him- 
self to the theatres in an imaginary chariot, and 
be seated at once in the front boxes ; when in 
reality he has waited for two hours in Vinegar- 
yard before the opening of the doors, to secure 
himself a corner in the twelve-penny gallery. 
Hence it also happens to most authors, that 
though their way of life be ever so mean, their 
writings savour of the most unbounded magni- 
ficence ; and, as they have nothing to bestow, a 
most surprising generosity always accompanies 
every action of the quill. A novelist, for ex- 
amj)le, is remarkably lavish of his cash on all 
occasions ; and spares no expense in carrying on 
the designs of his personages through ever so 
many volumes. Nothing, indeed, is more easy 
than to be very profuse upon paper : an autlior, 
when he is about it, may erect his airy castles to 
what height he pleases, and with the wave of 
his pen may command the mines of Peru ; and, 
as he deals about his money without once un- 
tying his purse-strings, it will cost him th«same 
whether he throws away a mite or a million ; 
and another dip of ink, by the addition of two 
or three gratis cyphers, may, in an instant, con- 
vert a single ten into as many thousands. 

But it must be confessed, that we essay- writers, 
as we are the greatest egotists, are consequently 
most vain and ostentatious. As we frequently 
find occasion to prate about ourselves, we take 
abundant care to put the reader constantly i/j 



No. 89-] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



151 



Qiind of our importance. It is very well 
known, that we keep the best company, are 
present at the most expensive places of diver- 
sion, and can talk as familiarly of White's as 
if we had been admitted to the honour of 
losing an estate there. Though the necessaries 
as well as the luxuries of life may perhaps be 
denied us, we readily make up for the want of 
them by the creative power of the imagination. 
Thus, for instance, I remember a brother essay- 
ist, who took a particular pride in dating his 
lucubrations, " From my own Apartment;" 
which he represented as abounding with every 
convenience : though at the same time he was 
working three stories from the gi'ound, and was 
often forced, for want of other paper, to scribble 
upon wrappers of tobacco. As to myself, I 
make no doubt but the reader has long ago dis- 
covered, without my telling him, that I loU at 
my ease in a crimson velvet chair, rest my elbow 
on the polished sui'face of a mahogany table, 
write my essays upon gUt paper, and dip my pen 
into a silver standish. 

Indeed, though I have taken upon me the title 
of Connoisseur, I shall not presume to boast, 
that I am possessed of a museum like Sloane's, 
or a library equal to Mead's. But as Pliny, 
and after him oiu- countryman Mr. Pope, have 
left us a description of then- elegant villas, I 
hope it wiU not be thought arrogance in me, 
after what I have said, if I set before the reader 
an account of my own study. This is a little 
edifice situated at some distance from the rest of 
the house, for the sake of privacy and retirement. 
It is an ancient pile of building, and hangs 
over a small rivulet ; and as the entrance into it 
is shaded by a thick hedge of ever-gi'een, which 
casts a kind of awful gloom about it, some learn- 
ed antiquaries have been led to conjecture, that 
it was formerly a Temple, or rather a Chapel of 
Ease, dedicated to one of the heathen goddesses. 
This goddess, they inform me, was worshipped 
by the Romans, and was probably held in no 
less veneration by the Egj-ptians, Chaldees, 
SjTians, and other nations. However this be, 
the walls on the inside are decorated with vari- 
ous inscriptions, alluding to the religious rites 
performed there, and hung round with the rude 
rhymes of ancient bards. 

To this study I retire constantly every morn- 
ing after breakfast, and at other parts of the day, 
as occasion calls. Here I am at liberty to in- 
dulge my meditations uninterrupted, as I sujffer 
no one to break in upon my privacy : and (what 
will perhaps surprise my readers) I find in my- 
self the greatest inclination to visit it after a 
hearty meal. In this place I made a very rapid 
progress in literature, and have gone through 
several very learned volumes, which otherwise 
I should never have looked into, I have here 
traveUed leaf by leaf through the works of many 
worthy, but neglected ancient divines, critics, 



and politicians ; and have turned OA'er many a 
modern pamphlet or poem with equal satisfac- 
tion. I must not forget to mention, that (like 
the scrupulous Mahometans) I have often picked 
up the fragments of several learned writers, 
which have come from the chandlers, anr^ 
lodged them, among others no less valuable, in 
my study. 

I may safely boast, that I am indebted for 
many of my best thoughts in the coui'se of these 
papers, to the reflections I have had the leisure 
to make in this study; which probably has the 
same influence on my mind, as the stewed 
prunes had upon Bayes, which he tells us be 
always took when he wrote. But if my study 
serves to inspire me sometimes -with agreeable 
ideas, it never fails on the other hand to remind 
me of the mortality of writers ; as it affords 
repeated proofs, that we may justly say of our 
works, as "well as of ourselves, 



Serihs cut citiiis sedem properavius ad unam ! 

O lamentable chance ! to one vile se 
Sooner or later we must all retreat ! 



Ovid. 



T. 



No. 89.] Thursday, Oct. 9, 1755. 



Lugete, Veneres, Cupidinesque, 

Et quantum est hominum venustiorum f 

Passer mortuus est meiB puellce ; 

Passer delicUe Jnece puellce ; 

Quern plus ilia oculis suis amdbat. Catuix. 

Weep, ye belles, ye beaux, deplore ! 
Pretty, pretty Poll's no more ! 
Poll, the dear dehght, the fancj'. 
Poll, the darling of my Nancy ! 
Pretty Poll, whom she did love 
'Bove her eyes, O far above. 

Going the other day to visit Mrs. Penelope 
Doat, after I had waited some time in the par- 
lour, the maid returned with her misti-ess's com- 
pliments, and informed me, that as she was ex- 
tremely busy, she begged to be excused coming 
down to me, but that she would be very glad to 
see me in the nursery. As I knew she was a 
maiden lady, I was a good deal startled at the 
message : but however I followed the servant up 
stairs to her mistress ; whom I found combing 
a little spotted dog that lay in her lap, with a 
grey parrot perched on one arm of the settee 
where she sat, a monkey on the back, and a tabby 
cat with half a dozen kittens on the other 
corner of it. The whole room, which was a 
very large one, was indeed a nursery for all 
kinds of animals, except those of the human 
species. It was bung every where with cages, 
containing parrots, macaws, Canary birds, 
nightingales, linnets, and goldfinches ; on the 



152 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 89. 



(chairs were several cats reposing on soft 
cushions; and there were little kennels, in the 
Chinese taste, in almost every corner of the 
room, filled with pugs, fidos, and King Charles's 
breed. As soon as the chattering of the birds, 
the barking of the dogs, and the mewing of 
the cats, which mj' entrance occasioned, be- 
gan to cease, — " You find me here. Sir," said 
the lady, " tending my little family, the only 
joy of my life. Here's a dear pretty crea- 
ture !" holding up the dog she was combing, 
" a beauty ! what a fine long eared snub-nosed 
beauty ! Lady Faddle advertised three quarters 
of a year, and could not get the fellow to it. 
Ah, bless it, and love it, sweet soul;" 



And then she stroked it, and kissed it for near 
two minutes, uttering the whole time all those 
inarticulate sounds, which cannot be committed 
to paper, and which are only addressed to dogs, 
cats, and children, and may be styled the lan- 
guage of the nursery. Upon observing me 
smile at the embraces she bestowed on her little 
motley darling, " I am afraid," said she, "you 
don't love these pretty creatures. How can 
you be so cruel ! Poor dumb things ! I would 
not have them hurt for all the world. Nor do 
I see why a lady should not indulge herself in 
having such sweet little company about her, as 
well as you men run out estates in keeping a 
pack of filthy hounds." Then she laid Pom- 
pey on his cushion by the fire-side ; and railed 
at the barbarity of the human species to the rest 
of the creation, and entei'ed into a long disserta- 
tion on tenderness and humanity. 

A humane disposition is, indeed, so amiable 
either in man or woman, that it ought always 
to be cherished and kept alive in our bosoms ; 
but at the same time we should be cautious not 
to render the first virtue of our nature ridicu- 
lous. The most compassionate temper may be 
sufficiently gratified by relieving the wretches 
of our own species ; but who would ever boast 
of their generosity to a lap-dog, and their con- 
ferring eternal obligations on a monkey? or 
would any lady deserve to be celebrated for her 
charity, who should deny support to a relation 
or a friend, because she maintains a litter of 
kittens ? For my part, before I would treat 
a Dutch puppy with such absurd fondness, I 
must be brought to worship dogs, as the Egyp- 
tians did of old ; and ere I would so extrava- 
gantly doat upon a monkey, I would, as lago 
says on a diff^erent occasion, "exchange my 
humanity with a baboon." 

Yet there have been many instances, besides 
my female friend, of this fondness for the brute 
cieation being carried to very ridiculous lengths. 
The grave doctors of the faculty have been 
called in to feel the pulse of a lap-dog, and in- 
spect the urine of a squirrel ; nay, I am my- 
self acquainted with a lady, who carried this 
matter so far, as to discharge her chaplain, be- 



cause he refused to bury her monkey. But the 
most solemn piece of mummery on these occa- 
sions is the making provisions for these animals 
by will ; which absurd legacies as little deserve 
the title of humanity, as those people merit 
being called charitable, who in a death-bed 
fright, starve their relations by leaving their 
estates to found an hospital. It were indeed to 
be wished, that money left in trust for such 
uses were subject to some statute of mortmain ; 
or at least that the gentlemen of the long robe 
would contrive some scheme to cut off the entail 
from monkeys, macaws, Italian gi-eyhounds, 
and tabby-cats. 

That a stage coachman should love his cattle 
better than his wife or children, or a country 
squire be fond of his hounds and hunters, is not 
so surprising, because the reason of their regard 
for them is easily accounted for : and a sea- 
captain has, upon the same principles, been 
known to contract an affection for his ship. 
Yet no coachman would, like Caligula, tie his 
horses to a golden rack; but think he shows 
sufficient kindness by giving them a good feed 
and clean straw : and the country sportsman 
takes care to provide his hounds with a warm 
kennel and horse flesh ; but would never think 
of placing them on cushions before the fire, and 
cramming them with fricasees, or breed them 
with as much care as the heir to his estate. 

This irregular passion, (if 1 may so call it) 
is most frequently to be met with among the 
ladies. How often has the slighted gallant 
envied the carresses given to a lap-dog, or kisses 
bestowed on a squirrel ! and " I would I were 
thy bird!" has been the fond exclamation of 
many a Romeo. But it is remarkable, that 
this aff"ection for birds and beasts generally wears 
off after marriage, and that the ladies discai-d 
their four-footed darlings and feathered favou- 
rites, when they can bestow their endearments 
on a husband. "Wherefore, these dry nurses 
to pugs and grimalkins are mostly to be met with 
among those females, who have been disappoint- 
ed in the afi^airs of love, and have, against their 
will, retained the flower of virginity, till it lias 
withered in their possession. It often happens 
that there is some kind of analogy between the 
gallant they once loved, and the animal on 
which they afterwards fix their aff'ections : and 
I remember an instance of a lady's passion for 
a lawyer being converted into dotage on a par- 
rot ; and have an old maiden aunt, who once 
languished for a beau, whose heart is now de- 
voted to a monkey. 

But I should not so much quarrel with these 
humane ladies, ■who choose to settle their aff'ec- 
tions on the brute species, if their love for these 
pretty creatures was not troublesome to othei^s, 
who are not so sensible of the chai'ms of a snub- 
nose, or cannot discover any beauty in the grey 
eyes of a cat. A doating mother would never 



No. 90.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



163 



forgive you, if you did not call her brat 
a fine child, and dandle it about, and prattle 
with it, with as much seeming rapture as her- 
self; in like manner, a lady would take it as an 
affront to her own person, if you did not pay 
your addresses equally to her pug or parroquet. 
I know a young fellow, that was cut off with a 
shilling by an old maiden aunt, on whom he had 
great dependance, because he gave poor Veny a 
kick, only for lifting up his leg against the gen- 
tleman's stocking : and I have heard of another, 
who might have carried off a very rich widow, 
but that he could not prevail upon himself to 
extend his caresses to her dormouse. Indeed, I 
cannot help thinking, that the embraces and en- 
dearments bestowed on these rivals of the human 
species should be as private as the most secret 
intrigues ; and I would have lap-dogs, like fret- 
ful and squalling children, confined to bark and 
growl only in the nursery. We may often see a 
footman following his lady to church with a large 
common-prayer-book under one arm, and a snar- 
ling cur under the other. I have known a grave 
divine forced to stop short in the middle of a 
prayer, while the whole congregation has been 
raised from their knees to attend to the howling 
of a non-conforming pug ; and I once saw a tra- 
gedy monarch disturbed in his last moments, as 
he lay expiring on the carpet, by a discerning 
critic of King Charles's black breed, who jump- 
ed out of the stage box, and fastened upon the 
hero's perriwig, brought it off in his mouth, and 
lodged it in his lady's lap. 

It will not appear strange, after what has been 
said, that these ladies, or lady-like gentlemen, 
should be as solicitous to preserve the breed of their 
favourite animals, as a sportsman of his hounds 
and horses. I have kno^vn a gentleman in St. 
James's street send his little Cupid in a sedan 
chair as far as Grosvenor-square, to wait upon a 
lady's Veny for this veiy purpose : and I shall 
never forget a card, which was sent to another 
lady on a like occasion, expressed in the follow- 
ing terms : — " Mr. 's compliments to 

Lady Betty , is glad to hear Miss Chloe is 

safely delivered, and begs it as a particular fa- 
vour, that her ladyship would be pleased to set 
bim down for a puppy. " O. 



No. 90.] Thursday, Oct. 16, 1755. 



Ego nee studium sine divite vena. 

Nee rude quid prosit, video, ingenium. 

HOR. 

Ah, what can application do. 
Unless we have a genius too ? 
Or genius how have cultivation. 
Without due pains and application ? 

If we consider that part of our acquaintance, 
whom we remembei' from their infancv, we 



shall find, that the expectations we once entei* 
tained of their future abilities are in many in., 
stances disappointed. Those Avho "vvere accounts 
ed heavy dull boys, have by diligence and ap- 
plication made their way to the first honours, 
and become eminent for their learning and 
knowledge of the world ; \vhile others, who were 
regarded as bright lads, and imagined to possess 
parts equal to any scheme of life, have turned 
out dissolute and ignorant ; and quite unworthy 
the title of a genius, except in the modern accep- 
tation of the word, by which it signifies a very 
silly young fellow, who fi'om his extravagance 
and debauchery has obtained the name of a ge- 
nius, like lucus a non luceiido, because he has no 
genius at all. 

It is a shocking drawback from a father's 
happiness when he sees his son blessed with 
strong natural parts and quick conception, to i*e- 
flect that these very talents may be his ruin. If 
vanity once gets into his head and gives it a 
Avi-ong turn, the young coxcomb will neglect the 
means of improvement, trust entirely to his 
native abilities, and be as ridiculously proud of 
his parts, as the brats of quality ai"e taught to be 
of their family. In the meantime, those whom 
nature threw^ far behind him, are by application 
enabled to leave him at a distance in their turn ; 
and he continues boasting of his genius, till it 
subsists no longer, but dies for want of cultiva- 
tion. Thus vanity and indolence prevent his 
improvement ; and if he is to rise in the world 
by his merit, take away the means of success, and 
perhaps reduce him to very miserable distresses. 
I know one of these early geniuses, who scarce 
supports himself by writing for a bookseller ; 
and another, who is at leisure to contemplate his 
extraordinary parts in the Fleet prison. 

If we look into the world, we shall find that 
the mere genius will never raise himself to any 
degree of eminence without a close and un- 
weai'ed application to his respective business or 
profession. The Inns of Court are full of these 
men of parts, who cannot bear the drudgery of 
turning over dry cases and reports ; but, though 
they appear ever so eloquent in taverns and 
coffee-houses, not the nearest relation wiU trust 
them with a brief : and many a sprightly physi- 
cian has walked on foot all his life, with no 
more knowledge of his profession than what lies 
in his periwig. For whatever opinion they 
themselves may have of their own parts, other 
persons do not choose to be bantered out of their 
estates or joked out of their lives; and even in 
trade, the plodding men of the Alley would 
foretell the bankruptcy of any wit among them, 
who should laugh at the labour of accounts, or 
despise the Italian method of book-keeping. Thus 
we see, that parts alone are not sufiicient to re- 
commend us to the good opinion of the world ; 
and if not roused and called forth by study and 
application, they would become torpid, and use- 
X 



154 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



No. 91- 



less : as the race-horse, though not put to drag 
a dray or carry a pack, must yet be kept in ex- 
ercise. But I shall enlarge no further on this 
subject, as I would not anticipate the thoughts 
contained in the following elegant little fable ; 
which is written by the same ingenious hand, 
that obliged the public with the verses on Imita- 
tion, inserted in my sixty-seventh number. 

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. 

Genius, blest terra of meaning wide ! 
(For sure no term so misapplied), 
How many bear the sacred name. 
That never felt a real flame! 
Proud of the specious appellation, 
Thus fools have christen'd Inclination. 

But yet, suppose a Genius true ; 
Exempli gratia, me or you ; 
Whate'er he tries with due intention. 
Rarely escapes his apprehension : 
Surmounting every opposition, 
You'd swear he learnt by intuition. 
Should he presume alone on parts. 
And study therefore but by starts ? 
Sure of success whene'er he tries. 
Should he forego the means to rise ? 

Suppose your watch a Graham make. 
Gold, if you will, for value sake. 
Its springs within in order due. 
No watch, when going, goes so true : 
If ne'er wound up with proper care. 
What service is it in the wear ? 

Some genial spark of Phoebus' rays 
Perhaps within our bosom plays : 

how the purer rays aspire. 
If Application fans the fire ! 
"Without it genius vainly tries, 
Howe'er sometimes it seems to rise : 
Nay, Application will prevail. 
When braggart parts and Genius fail ; 
And now, to lay my proof before ye, 

1 here present you with a story. 

In days of yore, when Time was young. 
When birds conversed as well as sung. 
And use of speech was not confined 
Merely to brutes of human kind ; 
A forward Hare, of swiftness vain. 
The Genius of the neighbouring plain. 
Would oft deride the drudging crowd ; 
For Geniuses are ever proud. 
His flight, he'd boast, 'twere vain to follow, 
For horse and dog, he'd heat them hollow; 
Nay, if he put forth all his strength 
Outstript his brethren half a length. 

A Tortoise heard his vain oration, 
And vented thus his indignation : — 
" O Puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace. 
When I defy thee to the race. 
Come, 'tis a match, — nay, no denial, 
I lay my shell upon the trial." 

'Twas done and done, — all fair — a bet — 
Judges prepared, and distance set. 
The scampering Hare outstripped the wind. 
The creeping Tortoise lagg'd behind. 
And scarce had pass'd a single pole. 
When Puss had almost reach 'd the goal. 



" Friend Tortoise," cries the jeering Hare, 
" Your burthen's more than you can bear : 
To help your speed, it were as well 
That I should ease you of your shell ; 
Jog on a little faster prithee, 
I'll take a nap, and then be with thee." 
So said, so done, — and safely sure ; 
For say, what conquest more secure ? 
Whene'er he waked (that's all that's in it). 
He could o'ertake him in a minute. 

The Tortoise heard the taunting jeer. 
But still resolved to persevere ; 
Still drawl'd along, as who should say 
I win, like Fabius, by delay ; 
On to the goal securely crept. 
While Puss unknowing soundly slept. 

The bets are won, the Hare awake. 
When thus the victor Tortoise spake : 
" Puss, though I own thy quicker parts 
Things are not always won by starts : 
You may deride my awkward pace. 
But sloiv and steady wins the race." 



No. 91.] Thursday, Oct. 23, 1755. 



(hnnia Castor emit ; sic fiet, ut omnia vendcl. 

Such bargains purchased by his dear. 

Her taste at auctions showing. 
Himself must turn an auctioneer 

A going, a going, agoing. 



Mart. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



SiK, 



I AM married to a woman of the most notable 
disposition, who values herself upon going the 
nearest way to work in every thing, and laying 
out her money to more advantage than any bod y 
else. But her economy is so strangely expen- 
sive, and her savings attended with such ridicu- 
lous extravagance, that she has almost undone 
me by her fi'ugality. 

In the first place, my wife is particulai'ly 
proud of being an excellent market-woman 
She understands this business so well, it seems, 
that she buys every thing better of its sort, anu 
at a cheaper rate, than any other person ; for 
which reason she always undertakes it herself, 
and trudges to market with all the notable air: 
and housewifely appearance of an old butter- 
woman. Here she flatters herself that she hv' 
the art of beating down every thing so verj' low, 
that she cannot resist the temptation of buying 
such extraoi'dinary pennyworths ; and after 
spending the whole morning at twenty different 
shops, and four or five different markets, she 
comes home with provisions enough to support 
the first duke's family in the kingdom for a week. 
Though the natural consequence of this house- 
wifery is, that above half her marketings stink 
and grow musty before we can use them, yft 
she is higlily delighted with her management ; 



No. 91,] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



155 



and entertains till the good ladies of her acquain- 
tance with an account of her economy, and 
the complaints of the tradesmen, that there was 
no dealing with her, that she is too hai'd for 
them, and that they shall be ruined by selling 
her such bargains. 

1 should tell you, Sir, that soon after we were 
married, my wife over-persuaded me to take a 
house in the country ; and she assured me, that 
we should save more than the rent of it, by the 
advantages of breeding our own poultry, and 
feeding our own cattle, for the supply of our 
table. I accordingly hired a little box about 
tn-enty miles from town, with a piece of ground 
adjoining to it, and my wife took upon her the 
whole management of the estate ; for the order- 
ing of which she had collected together so many 
excellent rules, that she was sure to save cent, 
per cent, in every article. The consequence of 
this was, that our chickens, being fed with rye, 
instead of barley and wheat, died of the pip ; our 
turkeys were crammed with bran and butter- 
milk, to save the expense of corn, and were .nost 
of them carried off by a looseness ; our geese 
were fatted with acorns instead of oats, and 
were as poor as their plucked brethren in the 
fens of Lincolnshire. Our hogs cost us nothing 
in a manner for their keeping, as they lived upon 
turnip-parings and cabbage-stalks, pease and 
bean-shells, scalded crab-apples, and bull's blood 
and liver ; in consequence of which our bacon 
was rancid, and our pork measly. We had two 
cows for the use of our dairy ; but the very first 
winter, being fed, for cheapness, with nothing 
but coUart leaves and chopt straw, they gave no 
milk for half the j'ear, and at last died of the dis- 
temper among the horned cattle. Even our 
poor mare, which used to run in the chaise, 
fared no better than the miller's horse, as she 
was kept chiefly upon bran, and very seldom 
indulged with the luxury of oats and beans; so 
that the poor creature, after a journey somewhat 
harder than usual, dropped down dead between 
the shafts. We had scarce better luck in the 
management of our garden ; for though my wife 
prided herself on her notable skill in these mat- 
ters, our fruit trees could never be brought to 
bear ; and when cucumbers were to be had for 
a penny a dozen, and pease for a groat a peck, 
we had the pleasure of gathering them fresh 
from our own garden, after they had stood us in 
more than ten times their value in the raising. 

Among her other housewifely accomplish- 
ments, my wife was possessed of the original re- 
ceipts of her grandmother for all sorts of made 
wines, which nobody could distinguish from 
those of a foreign growth. She therefore set 
about making a large quantity of Port and Claret 
from elder-beiTies, and Mountain and Fronti- 
niac from raisins and brown sugar: but when 
theso had been kept to a proper age, and were fit 



to be drank, we had this only consolation, that 
they were the best vinegar that could be used 
for our pickles. Our October, which she con- 
trives to breiv with as much bran as malt, and 
mug-wcrt instead of hops, grew dead iu the 
j casks, before it had sufficiently fermented ; and 
I when we had bottled it off, it burst above twenty 
j dozen bottles, and the remainder was sour. My 
I wife also bought a still, with its whole appara- 
I tus, that she might make Plague and Hysteric 
[ Water, for her own use, and to give away among 
her poor neighbours : but at one time the head 
of the still flew off, and laid her under the sur- 
geon's hands for three months ; and at another, 
it took fire, and had like to have burnt the house 
down. To this account I should likewise set 
down the charge of our apothecary's shop, in 
preparing ointments for scalds, salves for burns, 
and other family medicines ; in ail which I 
know to my cost, the old saying was inverted, 
and we lost elevenpence out of a shilling. 

You must know, Sir, that (besides her do- 
mestic economy) my provident dear is a most 
passionate admirer of a pennyworth in any 
shape ; and is one of those prudent good ladies, 
who will purchase any thing, of which they 
have no need, merely because they can have it a 
bargain. It would be doing much service to 
many other i)oor gentlemen as well as to me, if 
you could convince these thrifty females, that 
to purchase useless commodities at any price, 
can never be good housewifely, and that how- 
ever nearly they may drive their bargains, there 
is just so much money flung away as the pur- 
chase costs. We have as much linen by us as 
Avould set up a piece-broker, which ray wife has 
purchased under prime cost of the Scotch ped- 
lars that came to ouj- door ; and I am sure we 
have cast-off clothes sufficient to furnish a sale- 
shop, which she has bought of ladies' maids for 
a mere trifle. She is a frequent customer to 
pretended smugglers, that whisper in your ear, 
and offer you right India handkerchiefs made at 
Spitalfields. But above all, she constantly at- 
tends the several Auctions of the Stock in Trade 
of eminent Tradesmen, that were never heard 
of, and the household furniture, plate, china, 
&c. of Baronets and Squires, that never existed 
but in the brain of the auctioneer. Here she 
meets with such excellent pennyworths, that as 
my pantry is stored with more provisions than 
we can dispense with, every room in my house 
is crammed up with useless beds, tables, chests 
of drawers, curiosities, peruke-pated beaux and 
fine ladies (beauties of their times), that are 
good for nothing but to hide the bare walls of a 
garret. In short. Sir, unless you can prevail 
with her to forego the Avonderful advantages of 
making such exquisite purchases, as (she says) 
all the world v.ould jump at, I shall very soon 
be quite a beggar : for if she goes on at this rate, 



156 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 92. 



buying things for nothing, as she calls it, I shall 
shortly have nothing to buy withal. 

As these valuable purchases are daily multi- 
plying upon my hands, and as my house is be- 
come a repository for the refuse of sales and 
auctions, the only method I can think of at 
present to get rid of them, is to make an auction 
myself. For this purpose I have drawn out a 
catalogue; and have sent you the following 
specimen, that by it you may judge of the rest of 
my cui'iosities. 

CATALOGUE, 

OF THE CHOICE AND VALUABLE EFFECTS OF MR. , 

LEAVING OFF HOUSEKEEPING. 

TO BE SOLD BY AUCTION. 

In the First Bays Sale {among other Farticidars 
equally curious) will be included^ 

A whole sheet print of King Charles on horse- 
back, by Mr. Henry Overton, finely coloured. 

IMary Queen of Scots, by the same master, done 
after the life, and painted upon glass ; the 
right eye cracked, and the nose a little 
scratched. 

A capital picture of Adam and Eve in cross- 
stitch. 

Noah's Ark, in tent-stitch, its companion. 

Fair Rosamond's Bower, in Nun's work by the 
same hand. 

A lively representation of Chevy Chase, in lig- 
num vitae, rose- wood, and mother of pearl, 
curiously inlaid. 

Several lesser pieces of birds, beasts, fruits, and 
flowers ; copied from nature in coloured 
silks, stained feathers, and painted straw. 

Merlin's Cave, in shell work ; composed of 
above a thousand beautiful shells, with a cas- 
cade of looking-glass playing in the middle. 

A most curious Tea-table of rare old japan ; 
with the edges broke off, and one of the legs 
standing. 

A most rare and inestimable collection of right 
old china ; consisting of half a punch-boAvl, 
three parts of a dish, half a dozen plates 
joined together with wires drilled through 
their middles, a sugar-dish with a piece broke 
off the side, a tea-pot without a spout, another 
without a handle, and five odd cups and sau- 
cers, the cracks neatly joined with w^hite paint. 

Some large and elegant jars and vases in pajncr 
machee. 

Several figures of dogs, monkeys, cats, parrots, 
mandarins, and bramins, of the Chelsea and 
Bow manufactory. 

To lohich will be added, 
A SMALL, BUT WELL-CHOSEN COLLECTION 

OF 

MODERN BOOKS, 

CONSISTING OF 

J'ope's Works, and all our best authors — pub- 



lished in ink-stands, tea-chests, and quadrille- 
boxes for fishes and counters. 

Miss in her Teens — The Fool in Fashion— All 
for Lo\e— The Way to win him— She would 

if she could — Much ado about Nothing 

bound together, for the use of the fair sex, in 
a complete set of dressing-boxes. 

A new form of Self-examination — in a snuff- 
box, with a looking-glass in the lid of it. 

The Spiritual Comfort, or Companion for the 
Closet — in a small pocket volume, containing 
a bottle of coi'dial water. 

The Posthumous Works of Lord \MscouDt 
Bolingbroke — in a close stool. 

I am, Sir, your humble Servant, &c. 
T. 



No. 92.] Thursday, Oct. 30, 1755. 



O nata mecum Consule Maniio, 
Seu tu querelas, sive gerisjocos, 

Seu rixam, et insanos amores, 
Seufacilem, pia testa, somnum ; 

Descende. Hot 

Brisk wine some hearts inspires with gladness. 
And makes some droop in sober sadness ; 
Makes politicians sound to battle. 
And lovers of their mistress prattle ; 
While with " {Stations pottle deep" 
It lulls the serious sot to sleep. 

Drinking is one of those popular vices, which 
most peoi)le reckon among their venial failings ; 
and it is thought no great blot on a man's cha- 
racter, to say he takes his glass rather too freely. 
But as those vices are most dangerous and 
likely to prevail, which, if not approved, ai-e at 
least commonly excused, I have been tempted 
to examine, whether drinking really deserves 
that quarter it receives from the generality of 
mankind ; and I must own, that after a strict 
attention to the principal motives, that induce 
men to become hard drinkers, as well as to the 
consequences which such excesses j)roduce, 1 am 
at a loss to account for the received maxim, that 
" in good wine there is truth;" and should n«» 
more expect happiness in a full bowl, than chas- 
tity in the bar of a tavern. 

The incentives to this practice are some of 
them very sliocking, and some very ridiculous ; 
as will perhaps appear from the followuig cha- 
racters. 

Poor Heai-tly was blest with every noble qua- 
lification of the head and heart, and bade fair 
for the love and admiration of the whole world : 
but was unfortunately bound in a very large 
sum for a friend, who disappeared, and left him 
to the mercy of the law. The distresses, thus 
brought upon him by the treachery of another, 
threw him into the deepest despair : and he had 
at last recourse to drinking, to benumb (iC possi- 



No. 92.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



157 



ble) the very sense of reflection. He is misera- ' observing what strange creatures they are during- 



ble, when sober ; and when drunk, stupified and ' 
muddled : his misfortunes have robbed him of 
all the joys of life ; and he is now endeavouring | 
wilfully to put an end to them by a slow poison. 
Tom Buck, from the first day that he was 
put into breeches, was always accounted a boy 
of spirit ; and before he reached the top of West- 
minster school, knew the names and faces of the 
most noted girls upon town, tossed oif his claret 
with a smack, and had along tick at the tavern. 
"When he went to Oxford, he espoused the Tory 
party, because they drank deepest ; and he has 
for some years been accounted a four bottle man. 
He drank for fame; and has so well established 
his charactei', that he was never known to send 
a man from his chambers sober, but generally 
laid his whole company under the table. Since 
his leaving the University nobody ever acquired 
more reputation by electioneering; for he can 
see out the stoutest freeholder in England. He 
has, indeed, swallowed many a tun in the ser- 
vice of his country ; and is now a sounder pa- 
triot by two bottles, than any man in the 
country. 

Poor Would-be became a debauchee through 
mere bashfulness, and a foolish sort of modesty, 
that has made many a man drunk in spite of his 
teeth. He contracted an acquaintance with a 
set of hard drinkers : and though he would as 
soon choose to swallow a dose of physic, has not 
courage to refuse his bumper. He is drunk 
every night, and always sick to death the next 
morning, when he constantly resolves to drink 
nothing stronger than small beer for the future ; 
but at night the poor fellow gets drunk again 
through downright modesty. Thus Would-be 
suffers himself to be pressed into the service ; 
and since he has commenced a jolly fellow, is 
become one of the most miserable wretches upon 
earth. 

Honest Ned Brimmer is at present the most 
dismal object that ever fell a sacrifice to liquor. 
It was unluckily his first ambition to promote 
what is called good fellowship. In this under- 
taking he has in a very few years entirely ruined 
his constitution ; and now stalks up and down 
in so piteous a condition, as might inspire his 
companions with more naelancholy reflections 
than an empty bottle. He has quite lost all ap- 
petite ; and he is now obliged to keep up a weak 
artificial heat in his body, by the same means 
that destroyed the natural warmth of his consti- 
tution. — Rum, Brandy, and Usquebaugh, are 
his diet-drinks: and he may perhaps linger a 
few months, before he falls a martyr to good 
fellowship. 

Having thus taken a short view of the unhap- 
py motives that induce men to become hard 
drinkers, few perhaps will think such reasons 
any recommendation to drunkenness. Nor can 
I imagine they will grow more fond of it, by 



their intoxication. Shakspeare calls it " putting 
a devil into their mouths, to steal away their 
brains:" and, indeed, a cup too much turns a 
man the wrong side out ; and wine, at the same 
time it takes away the power of standing from 
the legs, deprives the mind of all sense and re- 
flection. It is whimsical enough to consider 
the different eff'ects, which wine produces on 
difl^erent tempers. Sometimes, like love, it makes 
a fool sensible, and a wise man an ass ; and 
seems to imbibe a new quality from every dif- 
ferent body, as water takes a tincture from the 
ground it runs through. 

Horace has with great pleasantry recapitulat- 
ed the various eff'ects of wine, in a stanza, which 
I have placed at the head of this paper. One 
man grows maudlin and weeps ; another be- 
comes merry and facetious ; a third quarrels, 
throws a bottle at his companion's head, and 
could run his dearest friend through the body ; 
a fourth is mad for a girl, and falls in love with 
a street- walker ; while to a fifth, the liquor 
serves as an opiate, and lulls him to sleep. 
Shakspeare has also shown this variety of char- 
acters with great humour. Cassio cries, " let's 
to business," and immediately begins to hiccup 
his prayers, and belches out his hopes of salva- 
tion : Justice Silence, who does not speak a 
word while he is sober, has no sooner swallowed 
the rousing cup, than he roars out a catch, and 
grows the noisiest man in the company. It is 
reported to have been one of the most exquisite 
entertainments to the choice spirits, in the be- 
ginning of this century, to get Addison and 
Steele together in company for the evening. 
Steele entertained them till he was tipsy; when 
the same wine that stupified him, only served 
to elevate Addison, who took up the ball just as 
Steele dropped it, and kept it up for the rest of 
the evening. They who have never been present 
at a scene of this kind, may see the whole group 
of drunken characters, displayed at one view 
with infinite humour, in Hogarth's Modem 
Midnight Conversation. 

Thus excess of drinking verifies all the trans- 
formations recorded in the fable of Circe's cup ; 
and perhaps the true reason why Bacchus is al- 
ways painted with horns, is to intimate, that 
wine turns men into beasts. Indeed, if none 
were to indulge themselves in drinking, except 
those, who (like Steele and Addison) could be 
witty and agreeable in their cups, the number 
of hard drinkers would be very happily dimi- 
nished. ]Most men have so little right to plead an 
excuse of this sort in vindication of their drunk- 
enness, that wine either makes them very rude, 
very stupid, or very mad. It is a vulgar error ta 
suppose that liquor only shows ill qualities since 
it also frequently creates them ; and engenders 
notionsinthemindquiteforeignto its natural dis- 
position, which are the mere effects of wine, and 



158 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 93. 



break out like blotches and carbuncles on the 
face. The disgustful appearance Avhich most 
people make when they are drunk, was what in- 
duced the Spartans to intoxicate their slaves, and 
show them to their children, in order to deter 
them from so odious a vice. In like manner let 
the choice spirit, who is often seen snoring in an 
armed-chair in a tavern, or hanging his head 
over the pot, reflect what a shocking figure he 
must have made, wheii he sees the drunken 
beggar sleeping on abidk, or rolling in the ken- 
nel ! 

Whoever thus considers the motives that ge- 
nex'ally induce men to give in to ttiese excesses, 
and how ridiculous and unhappy they are often 
I'endered by the effects, will hardly be tempted 
by the charms of a bottle : and, indeed, hard 
drinking is frequently one among the many evils 
that arise from want of education. The dull 
country squire, who has no taste for literary 
amusements, has nothing, except his dogs and 
liorses, but his bumper to divert him ; and the 
town squire sits soaking for the same reason in a 
tavern. These are the common herd of Bac- 
chus's swine : but nothing is more shocking than 
to see a man of sense thus destroying his parts 
and constitution. It not only makes a terrible in- 
novation in his whole frame and intellects, but 
also robs him of the society of those like himself, 
with whom he should associate, and reduces him 
to the level of a set of wretches ; since all may be 
admitted to his company and conversation, who 
are able to toss off a bumper. 

These considerations are sufficient to convince 
us of the evils which result from hard drinking; 
but it will shock us still more, if we reflect, how 
much it Avill influence our life and conduct. 
WhocA-^er is engaged in a profession, will never 
apply to it with success, while he sticks so close 
to his bottle ; and the tradesman, who endea- 
A'ours to make business and pleasure compati- 
ble, will never be able to make both ends meet. 
Thus, whether health, fame, or interest is re- 
garded, drunkenness should be avoided : and 
we may say with Cassio, " every inordinate 
cup is unblest, and the ingredient is a devil." 

O. 



No. 93.] Thursday, Nov. 6, 1755. 



Heu, Fortnna, (juis est crudelior in nos 
Te Deus ! vt semper gaudes illmlcre rebus 
Hutnanis ! 



Hon. 



Why, Fortune, serve us such a cruel prank, 

To turn thy wheel, and give us blank, blank, blank ! 

I CANNOT but admire the ingenious device pre- 
fixed to the advertisements of Hazard's Lottery- 
Office, in which Fortune is represented hovering 



over the heads of a great number of peojde, and 
scattering down all kinds of prizes among them. 
What Mr. Hazard has here delineated, every 
adventurer in the late lottery had pictured to 
himself: the Ten Thousand constantly floated 
before his eyes, and each i>erson had already pos- 
sessed it in imagination. But, alas ! all our ex- 
pectations are now at an end : the golden dream 
is at length vanished ; and those, whose heads 
were kept giddy all the while that the wheel of 
Fortune was turning round, have now leisure 
soberly to reflect on their disappointment. Hoav 
many unhappy tradesmen must now trudge on 
foot all their lives, who designed to loll in their 
chariots ! How many poor maidens, of good fami- 
ly but no fortune, must languish all their days 
Avithout the comforts of a husband and a coach 
and six ! Every loser thinks himself ill used by 
Fortune : and e\-en Mrs. Betty, the possessor of 
a single sixteenth, flies to the office, pays her 
penny, and receives the tidings of her ill luck 
Avith surprise : goes to another office, pays her 
penny, hears the same disagreeable information, 
and can hardly, very hardly persuade hei'self, 
that Fortune should have doomed her still to 
Avash the dishes, and scrub down the stairs. 

Thus the A'iews of cA'ery adventurer are direct- 
ed to the same point, though their motives for 
engaging in the lottery may be different. One 
man puts in because he is Avilling to be in For- 
tune's Avay ; another, because he had good luck 
in the last ; and another because he never got 
any thing before : this indulges in the prospect 
of making a fortune ; and that comforts himself 
Avith the pleasing hopes of retrieving his despe- 
rate circumstances. Every one, hoAvever, thinks 
himself as sure of the Ten Thousand, as if he 
had it in his pocket ; and his only concern is 
hoAv to dispose of it. We may, therefore, consi- 
der CA'ery adA'entui-er, as having been in actual 
possession of this treasure; and out of fifty thou- 
sand people, Avho haA-e been blest Avithiu this 
fortnight Avith such ideal good fortune, I shall 
select the folloAving instances, Avhich fell Avlthin 
my own notice. 

Joseph Wilkins of Thames-street, Esquire, 
Common Councilman and cheesemonger, got the 
£1 0,000. He could not bear the foggy air and din- 
gy situation of the city : he, therefore, resolved to 
take a house at the St. James's end of the town, 
and to fit up a snug box at Hampstead in the 
Chinese taste, for his retirement on Sundays. 
A chariot Avas absolutely necessai'v, to cai-ry 
him to and iVom 'Change CA'ery morning : but he 
intended to haA'e it made according to the mo- 
dern fashion, that it might occasionally be con- 
A'erted into a post chaise, to AA'heel him on a Sa- 
turday night to his country seat, and back again 
on the jNIonday morning. He designed to be chose 
alderman the first vacancy ; after that t(» be made 
sheriff, receive the honour of knighthood, and 
perha])s get into i)arliament : and Avhenevev he 



No. 93.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



159 



passed by the Mansion-house, he could not but look 
upon it with pleasure, as the future residence 
of his lordship. Nothing was now wanting 
but a careful plodding partner, who should take 
upon himself the whole drudgery of the shop ; 
so that the squire might have no further trouble, 
than to receive his dividend of the profits. But 
while he was considering on whom this impor- 
tant favour should be conferred, his ticket was 
drawn ilalanfe : and squire Wilkins is con- 
tented with his greasy employment of cutting 
out penny-worths of Cheshire cheese. 

Jonathan Wildgoose of Cheapside, silk-mer- 
cer, had too much taste to be confined to dirty 
business, which he neglected for the more agree- 
able pursuits of pleasure. Having therefore 
met with great losses in trade, he was obliged 
to embark the remains of his shattered fortune 
in the lottery, and by purchasing a number of 
tickets secured to himself the £10,000. He had 
determined to keep his success secret, bilk his 
creditors by becoming bankrupt, turn the whole 
into an annuity for his life, and live abroad like 
a gentleman upon the income. But unluckily 
his creditors came upon him too quickly : and 
before he could know that he had not got the 
Ten Thousand, hurried him to jail, where he 
now lies, lamenting that the Act of insolvency 
had not been postponed till after the lottery. 

John Jones, of Ludlow, in the county of 
Salop, Esquire, dealer and chapman, got the 
£10,000. This gentleman was fore-warned of 
his success by several indisputable tokens. His 
lady had dreamed of a particular number four 
nights together : and while the bells were ring- 
ing on his being chose bailiff of the corporation, 
they spoke in as plain words as ever Whitting- 
ton heard, " Mr. John Jones will get ten thou- 
sand pound — Ml-. John Jones will get ten thou- 
sand pound." He and his lady, therefoi'e, 
came up to London ; and not being able to meet 
with the particular number at Hazard's or 
Wilson's, or any other office always remarkable 
for selling the Ten Thousands, they advertised 
it in the piipers, and got the great prize, only 
paying a guinea more for their ticket than the 
market-price. As Mrs. Jones knew a good deal 
of the world, having lived for some years in 
quality of an upper servant in a great house, 
she was determined that Mr. Jones should take 
the opportunity, now they were in town, of 
learning how to behave himself as he should do 
when he came to his fortune. She, therefore, 
introduced him to the best company in all the 
house-keepers' and stewards' rooms in the best 
families where she was acquainted : and as Mr. 
Jones was so deficient in politeness, as not even 
to know how to make a bow in coming into a 
room, he had private lessons from Mr. Aaron 
Hart, who undertakes to teach grown gentle- 
men i» dance. Mrs. Jones herself was very 
busy in consulting with the milliner and man- 



tua-inaker about the newest fashion, when the 
long looked-for Ten Thousand came up ; and 
directly after the hey-gee-o, carried them down 
again to Salop, with this only consolation, that 
their ticket was within one of the fortunate 
number. 

Sir Humphry Oldcastle, having greatly dip- 
ped his estate by being chosen into parliament 
on the Tory interest, mortgaged all he had left, 
and put himself in the way of the £10,000 for 
the good of his country. This seasonable re- 
cruit fixed him a staunch patriot; and he de- 
clared he would stand another election against 
all opposition. But, however it happened, the 
finishing of the lottery has induced him to 
change his sentiments ; and Sir Humphry, in 
lieu of the £10,000 has accepted a place. 

Jemmy Lister, an attorney's clerk, was car- 
ried into the lottery by pure disinterested love. 
He had conceived a violent passion for his mas- 
ter's daughter ; but the prudent old gentleman 
could not be prevailed on to give her away to a 
handsome young fellow without a penny. This 
enraged him so much, that he immediately sold 
the reversion of a small estate after the death of 
his grandmother, and by laying out the pur- 
chase-money, as far as it would go, in shares 
and chances, got the £10,000. He was for some 
time in doubt, whether he should bestow his 
good fortune on the young lady, or employ it 
more fashionably in keeping a girl. However, 
his hopes soon sunk to one of the £5000 prizes, 
which he generously determined to settle upon 
her together with his person. But in this too 
he was unhappily disappointed ; and at last, 
like a true lover, contented himself with th* 
thoughts of maintaining her very prettily (evei 
though the father should give her nothing) oi 
the income of one or other of the inferior prizes 
which he was sure would fall to his lot. For- 
tune, alas ! is no less blind a deity than love : 
they both conspired to disappoint him ; and the 
unsuccessful gallant, having received a positive 
refusal from his mistress, out of mere spite di- 
rectly married the maid. 

Captain Mac Mullen, a decayed gamester, 
made shift to purchase the chance of a sixteenth, 
which (notwithstanding the great odds against 
him) came up £10,000. The first thing to be 
done was to purchase a genteel suit of clothes 
with his part of the prize, hire an equipage, 
pass himself off for a man of quality, and snap 
up a rich dowager or heiress : after which it 
was very easy for him to dupe all the raw game- 
sters at Arthur's out of their estates, and to 
take in all the knowing-ones on the turf af 
Newmarket. He accordingly bespoke his live- 
ries, settled the fashion of his chariot, and had 
already pitched upon the lady whose good luck 
it should be to fall in love with him : but so 
uncertain is the state of a gamester, that since 
the drawing of the lottery he has advertised for 



160 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 94. 



charitable contributions to a distressed gentle- 
man, who knows the world, and has had the 
honour to be intimate with most of the nobility 
and gentry in the kingdom. 

I need not point out any particular instances 
among the other sex, with respect to their dis- 
posal of the Ten Thousand ; which every lady 
had secured by choosing the ticket herself, taking 
particular cai-e, that the number should be an 
odd one. The married ladies have sufficient 
calls for even double this sum, to supply them 
with the necessaries of dress, and to answer the 
expenses of frequenting public diversions : and 
as to the unmarried ladies, they very well know 
the truth of that maxim in the ballad, that " in 
ten thousand pounds ten thousand charms are 
centred." Some ancient maiden ladies, who 
could never be brought to think of a husband, 
or to give in to the vanities of the world, were 
resolved to live retired upon their prize in the 
country, and leave proofs of their good disposi- 
tions behind them, by swelling out their wills 
with a long list of items to this or that charity 
or hospital. 

Before I conclude, I cannot but take notice of 
the gTeat generosity of. my own publisher upon 
getting the £10,000. As his success was owing 
to his laying out in the lottery all the profits, 
which had already risen from the publication of 
this Paper, he had determined to circulate my 
future numbers gratis ; and had even designed 
to keep open house for the reception of poor 
authors. Unhappily for the public, as well as 
my brother- writers, Fortune has frustrated his 
disinterested scheme : even I myself am admitted 
to eat his mutton but once a week : and (instead 
of giving away my papers) he has advertised, 
that the twelves edition of the Connoisseur will 
be published on Tuesday the 25th of this instant 
November, in two pocket volumes, price six 
shillings bound. 



No. 94.] Thursday, Nov. 13, 1755. 



Miliiavi rum sine gloria, Hon, 

1 too from martial feats may claim renown, 
The censor and dictator of the town. 

As I was going through Smithfield the other 
day, I observed an old fellow Avith a wooden leg, 
dressed in a sailor's habit, who courteously in- 
vited the passer-by to peep into his raree-show, 
for the small price of a halfpenny. His exhibi- 
tions, I found, were very well suited to the 
times, and quite in character for himself; for 
among other particulars, Avith which he amused 
the little audience of children that surrounded 
his box, I was mightily pleased to hear the 
following ;— " Tliere you see the British fleet 



pursuing the French ships which are running 
away— There you see Major- General Johnson 
beating the French soldiers in America, and 
taking Count Dieskau prisoner — There you see 
the Grand Monarque upon his knees before King 
George, begging his life." As the thoughts of 
the public are noAv Avholly turned upon war, it 
is no wonder that every method is taken to in- 
spire us with a love of our country, and an 
abhorrence of the French king : and not only the 
old seaman with his raree-show, but the public 
theatres have likewise had a view to the same 
point. At Drury-Lane we have already been 
entertained with the Humours of the Navy ; 
and I am assured, that at Covent- Garden Mr. 
Barry Avill shortly make an entire conquest of 
France, in the person of that renowned hero 
Henry the Fifth. And as the English are na- 
turally fond of bloody exhibitions on the stage, 
I am told that a new pantomime, entitled the 
Ohio, is preparing at this last house, more terri- 
ble than any of its hells, devils, and fiery dra- 
gons ; in w^hich w^ill be introduced the Indian 
manner of fighting, to conclude with a repre- 
sentation of the grand scalping dance with all 
its horrors. 

While this warlike disposition prevails in the 
nation, I am under some apprehensions lest the 
attention of the public should be called off from 
the weighty concerns of these papers. I already 
perceive, that the common newspapers are more 
eagerly snatched up in the public coffee-houses 
than my essays ; and the Gazette is much oftener 
called for than the Connoisseur. For these rea- 
sons I find it necessary to lay open my own im- 
portance before the public, to show that I my- 
self am acting (as it were) in a military capacity, 
and that Censor- General Town has done his 
country no less service as a valiant and skilful 
commander at home, than Major- General John- 
son in America. Authors may very properly 
be said to be engaged in a state of literary Avar- 
fare, many of whom are taken into pay by 
those great and mighty potentates, the book- 
sellers ; and it Avill be alloAved, that they undergo 
no less hardships in the service, than the common 
soldiers Avho are contented to be shot at for a 
groat a day. 

It has been my province to repel the daily in- 
roads and encroachments made by A-ice and folly, 
and to guard the nation from an invasion of 
foreign fopperies and French fashions. The 
tOAvn has been principally the scene of action ; 
Avhere I have found enemies to encoimter Avith, 
no less formidable than the Tquattotquaws or 
the Chickchimuckchis of North America. But 
as the curiosity of the public is so much engaged 
in attending to the enterprises of old Hendrick 
the Sachem, and the incursions of Indians who 
have taken up the hatchet against our colonies, 
I am afraid that my exploits against the Savages 
Avhich infest this metropolis, Avill be wholly 



No 95.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



l6l 



overlooked. I have, therefore, resolved to give 
my readers fresh advices from time to time of 
what passes here, drawn up in the same warlike 
style and manner as those very alarming articles 
of news which are commonly to be met with in 
our public papers. 

Thursday, November 13, 1755. 

We hear from White's, that the forces under 
IMaj or- General Hoyle, which used to encamp at 
that place, are removed from thence, and have 
fixed their winter quarters at Arthur's. The 
same letters say, that an obstinate engagement 
was fought there a few nights ago, in which one 
party gained a great booty, and the other suffered 
a considerable loss. V/e are also informed, that 
an epidemical distemper rages among them, and 
that several of the chiefs have been carried off by 
a sudden death. 

They write from Covent- Garden, that last 
week a body of Irregulars sallied out at mid- 
night, stormed several forts in that neighboiu"- 
hood, and committed great outrages ; but being 
attacked by a detachment from the allied army 
of watchmen, constables, and justices, they were 
put to flight, and several of them taken prison- 
ers. The plague still rages there with great 
violence, as well as in the neighboui'ing terri- 
tories of Drury. 

We hear from the same place, that the com- 
pany commanded by Brigadier Rich has been 
reinforced with several new-raised recruits, to 
supply the place of some deserters who had gone 
over to the enemy ; but his chief dependence is 
on the light cU'med troops, which are very active, 
and are distinguished, like the Highlanders, by 
their party-coloured dress. The enemy, on the 
other hand, have taken several Swiss* and Ger- 
mans into pay, though they are under terrible 
apprehensions of their being set upon by the 
critics. These are a rude, ignorant, savage peo- 
ple, who are always at war with the nation of 
authors. Their constant manner of fighting is 
to begin the onset with strange hissings and 
noises, accompanied vrith a horrid instrument, 
named the cat-call^ w^hich like the war- Avhoop of 
the Indians, has struck a panic into the hearts 
of the stoutest heroes. 

We have advice from the Butcher-Row, 
Temple- Bar, that on Monday night last the 
Infidels held a gi*and council of war at their 
head-quarters in the Robin Hood, at which their 
good friend and ally, the Mufti of Clare-Market, 
assisted in person. After many debates, they 
resolved to declare war against the Christians, 
and never to anake peace, till they had pulled 
dow^n all the churches in Christendom, and 
established the Alcoran of Bolingbroke in lieu 
of the Bible. 



* Alluding to the dancers employed in the entertain. 
ment of the Chinese Festival, at Drury Lane theatre. 



All our advices from the city of London agree 
in their accoimts of the great havoc and slaugh- 
ter made there on the Festival, commonly called 
my Lord Mayor's Day. All the companies in 
their black uniform, and the trained bands in 
their regimentals, made a general forage. They 
carried off vast quantities of chickens, geese, 
ducks, and all kinds of provisions. Major 
Guzzledown of the ward of Bassishaw distin- 
guished himself greatly, having ^vith sivord in 
hand gallantly attacked the oiU-works, scaled 
the walls, moiinted the ramparts, and forced 
through the cover-way of a large fortified cus- 
tard, which seemed impregnable. 

The inhabitants of Sussex have lately been 
alaimed with the apprehensions of an invasion ; 
as the French have been very busy in fitting out 
several small vessels laden with stores of %vine 
and brandy, with which it is thought they will 
attempt to make a descent somewhere on our 
coasts. The independent companies of Smug- 
glers in the service of France are to be sent on 
this expedition : but if the fleet of Custom- 
house smacks, &c. do not intercept them at sea, 
we are preparing to receive them as soon as they 
are landed. 

From divers parts of the countiy we have 
advice, that the roads are every where ci'owded 
with ladies, who (notwithstanding the severity 
of the weather) are hmrying up to London, to 
be present at the meeting of the Female Parlia- 
ment. At this critical juncture, the fate of the 
nation depends entirely on the deliberations of 
this wise assembly ; and as there are known to 
be many disinterested patriots in the House, it 
is not to be doubted, but that proper measm'es 
will be taken by them for the good of their coun- 
try. Many salutary laws are already talked of, 
which vre could wish to see piit in execution : 
such as — A bill for prohibiting the importation 
of French millinei's, hair-cutters and mantua- 
makers — A bUl for the exportation of French 
cooks and French valets de chambre — A bill to 
resti-ain ladies from wearing French dresses — 
And lastly a bill to restrain them from weai'ing 
French faces. W, 



No. 95.] Thursday, Nov. 20, 1755. 



MeUe soporatam et medicatis fnigihus offam 
Objicit. ViRG. 

The honey'd cake will lose its sweetness soon. 
And prove a bitter in the honey-moon. 

As every marriage is a kind of family festival, 
the w^edding-day is honoured with various cele- 
brities, and distinguished, like the fifth of 
NoA'ember, the birthdays of the royal family, 
or any other public day, with many demon stra- 
Y 



152 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 95. 



tlons of joy : the happy couple are drest in their 
richest suits, the bells ring all day, and the 
evening is concluded with the meri-y ceremony 
of throwing the stocking. But these festivi- 
ties are not always so religiously observed in 
town ; where many a pair of quality are tacked 
together with the utmost privacy, and imme- 
diately after sneak out of town, as if they were 
ashamed to show their faces after what they had 
done. In the country, when the squire or any 
other person of distinction is married, the 
honey-moon is almost a continued carnival : and 
every marriage is accounted more or less likely 
to be prosperous, in proportion to the number of 
deei", oxen, and sheep, tliat are killed on the oc- 
casion, and the hogsheads of wine and tuns of ale, 
with which they are washed down. By the last 
post I received an account from my cousin Vil_ 
lage, of the wedding of a near relation, with a 
particular detail of the magnificence of the en- 
tertainment, the splendour of the ball, and the 
universal joy of the whole manor. At the same 
time I received compliments from the new mar- 
ried couple, Avith a large slice of the bride-cake ; 
the virtues of which are well known to every 
girl of thirteen. I was never in possession of 
this nuptial charm before ; but I was so much 
delighted with this matrimonial token, and it 
excited in my mind so many reflections of con- 
jugal happiness, that (though I did not lay it un- 
der my pillow) it gave occasion to the following 
dream. 

I found myself in the middle of a spacious 
building, which was crowded with a variety of 
pei'sons of both sexes ; and upon inquiry was 
told, that it was the temple of the god of mar- 
riage ; and that every one, who had an inclina- 
tion to sacrifice to that deity, was invited to ap- 
proach a large altar, which was covered with a 
great number of cakes of different shapes and ap- 
pearance. Some of these were moulded into the 
form of hearts ; and others were woven into true 
lovers' knots : some were strewed with sugar, 
and stuck about with sweet-meats ; some were 
covered with gold ; some were stamped with 
coronets ; and others had their tops embeUished 
with glittering toys, that represented a fine house, 
a set of jewels, or a coach and six. Plutus and 
Cupid . were busily employed in distributing 
these cakes (which were all of them marked 
with the word Matrimony, and called bride- 
cakes) to different pei'sons, who were allowed to 
choose for themselves, according to their differ- 
ent views and inclinations. 

I observed several hasten to the altar, who all 
appeared to be variously affected by their choice. 
To some the cakes seemed of so delicious a fla- 
vour, that they imagined they should never be 
surfeited J while others, who found the taste very 
agreeable at first, in a short time declared it to 
be i3atand insipid. However, I could not help 
remarking, that many more (particularly among 



the quality) addressed themselves to Plutus, than 
to Cupid. 

Being desirous to take a nearer view of the 
company, I pushed through the crowd, and pi p.cfed 
myself close to the altar. A young couple now 
advanced, and applying to Cupid, desired him 
to reach them one of the cakes, in the shape of a 
double heart pierced through with darts : but 
just as they wei'e going to share it betwixt them, 
a crabbed old fellow, whom I found to be the 
girl's father, stepped up, broke the cake in two, 
and obliged the young lady to fix upon another, 
which Plutus picked out for her, and which re- 
presented the figure of a fine gentleman in gilt 
gingerbread. 

An old fellow of sixty-two, who had stolen 
one day from the business of the alley, next came 
towards the altar, and seemed to express a strong 
desire for a cake. Plutus, who recollected him at 
first sight, immediately offered him one, which, 
though very mouldy and coarse, was gilt all over; 
but he was astonishe<l at the old gentleman's re- 
fusing it, and petitioning Cupid for a cake of the 
most elegant form and sweetest ingi'edients. The 
little god at first repulsed him with indignation, 
but afterwards sold it to him for a large sum of 
money ; a circumstance, which amazed me be- 
yond expression, but which I soon found was 
very commonly practised in this temple. The 
old fellow retired with his purchased prize ; and 
though I imagined he might still have a colt's 
tooth remaining, after having for some time 
mumbled it between his old gums in vain, it lay 
by him untouched and unenjoyed. 

T was afterwards very much disgusted with 
the many instances that oocun'ed, of these delicate 
morsels being set up to sale : and I found, that 
their price rose and fell, like that of beef or mut- 
ton, according to the glut or scarcity of the mar- 
ket. I was particularly affected with the dis- 
posal of the two following. A young gentleman 
and lady were approaching the altar, and had 
agreed to take between them a cake of a plain 
form but delicious flavour, marked love and 
competence ; but a person of quality stejiping for- 
ward persuaded the false female to join with 
him, and receive ft'om Plutus one much more 
glittering, marked indifference and a large set- 
tlement. Another lady was coming up with a 
Knight of the Bath, being tempted by a cake 
with a red riband streaming from it, like the 
flags on a Twelfth-cake ; but was prevailed on 
by a person of greater rank and distinction to ac- 
cept a more sho\vj^ cake, adorned with a blue 
riband and a coronet. 

A buxom dame of an amorous complexion 
came next and begged very hard for a cake. She 
had before received several, whicli suited her 
tooth, and pletised her palate so excessively, 
tliat as soon as she had despatched one, she 
constantly came to Cupid for anotlier. She 
now seized her cake Avith great transport, and 



No. 96.-] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



163 



retiring to a corner with it, I could discern 
her greedily mumbling the delicious morsel, 
though she had fairly worn out six-and-twenty 
of her teeth in the service. After this an ancient 
lady came tottering up to the altar, supported 
by a young fellow in a red coat with a shoulder- 
knot. Plutus gave him a stale cake marked 
with the word Jointure in large golden capitals, 
which he received with some reluctance, while 
the old lady eagerly snatched another from 
Cupid, (who turned his liead aside from her) 
on which I could plainly discover the word 
Dotage. 

A rich rusty bachelor of the last century then 
came bustling through the ci'owd. He brought 
with him a red cheeked country girl of nineteen. 
As he approached the altar, he met several com- 
ing from it with cakes, which he had refused ; 
some of which were marked Riches, some Fa- 
mily, some Beauty, and one or two Aifectiou. 
The girl he brought with him proved to be his 
dairy-maid, whom he had for some time past 
been in vain attempting to bring over to his 
wishes ; but at last, finding his design imprac- 
ticable, he came with her to the altar. He 
seemed, indeed, a little ashamed of his under- 
taking, and betrayed a good deal of awkward- 
ness in his manner and deportment. However, 
as soon as he had taken his cake, he retired ; and 
determined to spend the rest of his days with his 
milch-cow in the country. 

To satisfy a modest longing, there now ad- 
vanced a maiden lady in the bloom of threescore. 
She had, it seems, heretofore refused several 
offers from Cupid and Plutus : but being en- 
raged to find that they had now given over all 
thoughts of her, she seized by the hand a young 
ensign of the guards, and carried him to the 
altar, whence she herself snatched up a cake, 
and divided it with her gallant. She was highly 
delighted with the taste of it at first; but her 
partner being very soon cloyed, she too late dis- 
covered, that the half which she held in her 
hand was signed Folly, and that which she had 
forced upon her paramour was marked Aversion. 

A little, pert, forward miss, in a frock and 
hanging sleeves, ran briskly up to Cupid, and 
begged for a cake : — what it was she did not 
care ; but a cake she must and would have, of 
one kind or another. She had just stretched 
out her hand to receive one from Cupid, when 
her mamma interposed, sent the child back again 
blubbering to the boarding school, and carried 
oft" the cake herself. 

An old woman, fantastically dressed, then 
burst into the temple, and ran raving up to the 
altar, crying out, that she would have a husband. 
But the poor lady seemed likely to be disappoint- 
ed ; for, as she could prevail on no one to join 
hands with her, both Cupid and Plutus refused 
to favour her with a cake. Furious with rage 
and despair, she snatched one off the altar ; and 



seizing on the first man that came in her way, 
which unfortunately happened to be myself, she 
would have forcibly crammed it down my 
throat. As the least crumb of it was as disa- 
greeable as a drench to a horse, I began to spawl, 
and sputter, and keck ; and though the flurry of 
spirits which it occasioned awaked me, I thought 
I had the nauseous taste of it still in my mouth. 

W. 



No. 96.] Thursday, Nov. 27, 1756. 



Sex paratur aut decern sophos nummis. 

Secreta qucere carmina, et rudes euros, 

Quas novit unus, scrinioque signatos 

Custodit ipse virginis pater chartce. 

Mercare tales ab eo, nee sciet quisquam. Mart. 

Would you the name of author not refuse. 
We've penn'orths for your penny, pick and choose : 
We've plays or poems, ready made for sale ; 
With wit and humour, wholesale or retail. 
On these the public breath has never blown ; 
Buy them, and fairly claim them for your own. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



Among the many register offices erected within 
these few years past, I am surprised that no 
scheme of the like nature has been thought of 
for the service of literature ; and that no place 
has been set apart, where literary commodities 
of every sort might be disposed of ; where men of 
learning might meet with employment; and 
where others, who want their assistance, might 
be sure to meet with men of learning. There 
is nothing of this kind in being at present, ex- 
cept among the booksellers ; who, indeed, have 
made a monopoly of the trade, and engrossed the 
whole market to themselves. 1 o remedy this 
inconvenience, my design is to set up a Literary 
Register Ofiice : for which purpose I intend to 
hire the now useless theatre in Lin coin 's-inn- 
fields, and convert it into a mart for the staple 
commodities of the literary commonwealth. I 
shall here fit up apartments for the reception of 
my authors, who will be employed from time to 
time in supplying the public with the requisite 
manufactures. This scheme will, I doubt not, 
meet with great encouragement, as it is of ge- 
neral utility : and I do not remember any design 
of the same nature, except at a barber's on the 
other side the water, who has hung out a board 

over his shop with the following inscription 

Lettei*s read and written for servants and others. 
I shall always have a fresh assortment of goods 
in the best taste and newest fashion : as of novels 
for example, while the humour of reading them 
is prevalent among all ranks of people. For 
this branch I shall retain a very eminent master 
novelist, to cut out adventures and intrigues. 



164 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 96. 



and shall employ a proper number of han(3s, to 
tack them together with all possible care and 
expedition : and if any ladies of quality, or 
others, choose to furnish their own materials for 
memoirs and apologies, they may have them done 
up, and be fitted exactly, at my office. Besides 
several others, which my men shall get up 
with the greatest despatch, I can assure you I 
have myself worked night and day, and have 
already finished six and thirty sheets of the his- 
tory of Miss Sukey Sapling, written by herself. 

Pamphlets of all sorts shall be composed, when- 
ever any popular subject starts up, that is likely 
to engage the attention of the public. Every new 
play shall be followed by an examen or remarks ; 
all riots at either playhouse will afford scope for 
letters to the managers ; and every new actor or 
actress produce theatrical ci'iticisms. Poetry, you 
know, Mr. Town, is a mere drug ; but I shall 
always have a number of ready-made odes by 
me, which may be suited to any gi*eat man, dead 
or alive, in place or out of place. I shall also 
have a large bundle of Poems on several occa- 
sions, very proper for any gentleman or lady, 
who chooses to publish by subscription ; besides a 
more ordinary sort of hymns to the morning, 

verses on the death of , odes to Miss A. B. C, 

acrostics and rebusses, for the use of the 
magazines ; to be sold a pennyworth, with al- 
lowance to those who take a great quantity. 

With regard to law matters, as they have no 
sort of connection with wit or learning, I shall 
not concern myself with their unintelligible jar- 
gon ; nor presume to interfere with those au- 
thoi-s in parchment, who measure their words 
by the foot-rule, and sell their writings at so 
much per line. However, I shall furnish young 
students of the several inns of court with com- 
plete canons of criticism; and opinions on any 
new theatrical cases ; on which they may argue 
A-ery learnedly at a tavern, or plead at the bar of 
a coifee-house. For medical subjects, I shall 
procure a learned graduate by diploma from 
abi'oad, whose practice will not so much take up 
his time as to prevent his being at leisure to 
w^rite occasional treatises, setting forth the vir- 
tues of any newly invented powder or newly dis- 
covered water. He shall also draw up the ad- 
vertisements for medicines, that remove all dis- 
BJises, and are never known to fail ; he shall 
compile the wonderful accounts of their surpris- 
ing cures ; and furnish cases that never happen- 
ed, and affidavits that were never made. With 
respect to divinity, as I have reason to believe 
. that controversial writings will be often called 
for, I intend to bargain with the Robin Hood 
society to undertake in the lump to furnish my 
office with defences of Lord 15olii»gbroke, &c. 
and till I can procure some poor curate out of 
the country, or servitor from the university, to 
wriie the manuscript sermons of eminent di- 
v'uce lately deceased, warranted originals, I 



must make shift with the Fleet-Parsons now 
out of business. 

Though I shall not keep any dramatic works 
ready made by me, (as these commodities are apt 
to grow stale and out of fashion,) yet either of 
the theatres may be served with tragedy, co- 
medy, farce, or the like, by bespeaking them, 
and giving but three days' notice. For the co- 
mic pieces I shall employ a poet, who has long 
worked for the drolls at Bartholomew and 
South wark fairs, and has even printed a comedy, 
as it was half acted at Drury-lane. IVIy trage- 
dies will be furnished by a North Briton, who 
walked up to London from his native countiy 
■n'ith a most sublime tragedy in his coat-pocket, 
and which is now to be disposed of to the best 
bidder. Any old play of Shakspeare or Ben Jon- 
son shall be pieced with modern ones according 
to the present *:aste, or cut out in airs and recita- 
tive for an English Opera. Songs for panto- 
mimes may be had, to be set to the clack of a 
mill, the tinkling or a tin cascade, or the slaps 
of Harlequin's wooden sword. The proprie- 
tors of our public gardens, during the summer 
season, maybe also supplied from my office with 
love-ditties to a new burthen, or comic dialogues 
in Crambo ; and Avords shall at any lime be 
fitted to the music, after the tunes are com- 
posed. 

As I propose to make my office of general 
utility, every thing that bears the least affinity to 
litei*ature will be natui-ally comprehei»ded in my 
scheme. Memliers of Parliament may be sup- 
plied with speeches on any political subject ; and 
country Justices may, on directing a letter (post- 
paid) to the office, have charges to the Jury at 
the quarter-sessions sent doAvn to them by the 
first coach or waggon. Addresses on particular 
occasions shall be drawn up for the worshipful 
mayor and aldermen of any city or corporation : 
laws, rules, regulations, or orders, shall be form- 
ed for the Anti-GiJlicans, Ubiquaiians, Gre- 
gorians, or any other private clubs and societies. 
N. B. The free Masons may dei)end upon se- 
crecy. 

Many advantages may likewise accrue to the 
l)olite world from the establishment of my office. 
Gentlemen and ladies may have 6/7/t'/-rfo»x Avrit- 
ten for them with the most soft and languishing 
expressions : message cards, and invitations to 
routs, shall be filled up and circulated at so much 
per hundred, or undertaken in the gross at a fixe<l 
price all the year round. Beaux may be ac- 
commodated Avith letters of gallantry to send 
to their laundresses, or have them copied out in 
a fashionabh; female scraAvl, and directed to 
themselves. Gentlemen Avho Ioac fighting, but 
cannot AATite, may have challenges peinied for 
them in the true style and spirit of a modern 
blood. 

There are many other con vonit nc» s arising from 
such an office, which it would be too tedious to 



No. 97.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



165 



enumerate : and it will be foxind to be no less 
beneficial to you authors, Mr. Town, than those 
other Register-ofl&ces are to men and maid ser- 
vants. If an author (for example) wants em- 
ployment, or is out of place, he has nothing to 
do but to enter his name with me, and I shall 
presently get him work ; or if a bookseller wants 
a hand for any particxilar job, (as a translation- 
spinner, a novel- weaver, a play-writer, a verse 
turner, or the like) upon searching my books he 
will be sure to meet with a man fit for the busi- 
ness. In short, any composition, in prose or 
rhyme, and on any subject, may be procured at a 
minute's warning, by applying to my office : and 
I dare say, you yourself, Mr. Town, will be very 
glad now and then to purchase a Connoisseur of 
me,whenever the idle fitseizesyou. If thatshould 
happen to come upon you this week, and you 
have nothing better, you Avill oblige me by lay- 
ing the scheme here set before your readers; and 
in return, you shall have the credit of publishing 
your papers at my office, as soon as it is opened, 
and welcome. 

I am, Sir, your humble servant, 

J. WiTSELL. 



.No. 97.] Thursday, Dec. 4, 1755. 



De te pendentis, te respicieniis amid. 



Hon. 



Your friend, your pimp, your hanger-on, what not ? 
Your lacquey, but without the shoulder-knot. 

I REMEMBER to have heard a cousin of mine, 
who was formerly at Cambridge, often mention- 
ing a sect of philosophers, distinguished by the 
rest of the collegians under the appellation of 
Tuft- Hunters. These are not the disciples of 
the Stoics or Epicureans, or the advocates for 
the old or new philosophy, but the followers 
(literally speaking) of the fellow-commoners, 
noblemen, and other rich students, whom, it 
seems, the courtesy of the university has hon- 
oured with a cap adorned with a gold tassel. 
These gold threads have almost as much influ- 
ence in the university, as a red or blue riband 
at court ; and always draw after the Avearer a 
train of humble companions, who will be at his 
call to breakfast, dine or sup with him when- 
ever he pleases, will go with him any where, 
drink with him, wench with him, borrow his 
money, or let him pay their reckoning. They 
are, I am told, a sort of disease of the place, 
which a man of fortune is sure to catch as soon 
as he arrives there : and these fast fi-iends stick 
so close to him, that he can never shake them off 
while he keeps his gown on his back. 

The university of London is not without its 
tuft-hunters, who fasten, like leeches, on a young 
man of fortune, at his first coming to town. 



They beset bim as soon as he arrives, and when 
they have once surrounded him, seldom fail of 
securing him to themselves ; for no persons of 
character care to have any connections with him, 
when he has been frequently seen in such bad 
company. It is a great misfortune for any 
young gentleman to fall into their hands : though 
indeed, as a fool is the natural prey of knaves, 
the wealthy maintaJners of this fraternity are 
generally none of the wisest ; and as at the uni- 
versity, "where the learned pate ducks to the 
golden fool," the gentleman-student is distin- 
guished by a cap with a gold tuft, I always con- 
sider these sons of folly in town, as adorned 
with a showy cap hung with bells, which serve 
at once to denote the depth of their parts, and 
to call their train about them. 

The dialect of the town has very expressively 
characterized these humble dependents on men 
of fortune by the name of Hangers-on. They 
will, indeed, take such sure hold, and hang on a 
man so constantly, that it is almost impossible 
to drop them. Whenever the gentleman ap- 
pears, the hanger-on is sure to be at his elbow. 
They will squeeze themselves into every party 
that is formed ; and I have known instances of 
their thrusting themselves into strange families, 
by sticking to their patron's skirts, and impu- 
dently introducing themselves where he has been 
invited to dinner — which, indeed, I think would 
not be an improper custom, provided they would 
submit to stand behind his chair. They will 
stick so closely, that all the adhesive quality of 
burs, pitch, &c. seem to be collected in them : 
and the line in Pope's Odyssey, so often ridi- 
culed, may rather be considered as emphasis than 
tautology in speaking of them. The hanger-on 
clings to his fool as Ulysses did to the rock, and 
in Pope's words, 

They stick adherent, and suspended hung. 

The tenaciousness of a hanger-on is so very 
strong, that whoever is drawn into their snares, 
is so firmly limed that he can hardly ever loose 
himself from them. For as nothing but the 
lowest meanness of spirit could ever prevail on 
a man to submit to such dependence on another, 
it is in vain to think of getting rid of such ab- 
ject wretches by treating them with contempt. 
They Avill take as much beating, provided you 
will allow them an equal degree of familiarity, 
as a spaniel. They will also submit to do any 
little offices, and are glad to make themselves 
useful, whenever they have an opportunity. 
They will go among the brokers to borrow 
money for you, pimp for you, or submit to any 
other such gentleman-like employment to serve 
their friend. 

It must here be noted, that every hanger-on 
is a person of strict honour and a gentleman ; 
for though his fortune is (to be sure) somewhat 
inferior to vours, and he submits to make him- 



166 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 98. 



self convenient on several occasions, yet on that 
account you are indebted to his infinite good- 
nature ; and all his endeavours to serve you pro- 
ceed from his great regard for you. I remember 
one of these friendly gentlemen, who carried his 
esteem so far, that in a quarrel with his rich 
companion, in which he was favoured with se- 
veral tweaks by the nose and kicks on the breech, 
he received all these injuries with patience, and 
only said with tears in his eyes, " Dear Jack, 1 
never expected this usage from you. You know 
I don't mind fighting ; but I should never have 
a moment's peace, if I was to do you the least 
injury. Come, Jack, let us buss and be fi-iends," 
Their gentility is unquestionable ; for they are 
seldom of any trade, though they are sometimes 
(being younger brothers perhaps) of a profession. 
I know one, who is a nominal lawyer ; but 
though his friend has often fee'd him, our coun- 
sellor could never with any propriety consider 
him as a client : and I know another, who (like 
Gibbet in the play) is called Captain, whose 
elegant manner of living must be supported by 
his being on full pay with his patron, since he 
does not receive even the common soldier's groat 
a day from his commission. However, consider- 
ing at one view the gentility of their profession, 
and the shortness of their finances, I often look 
upon them as a band of decayed gentlemen, the 
honourable pensioners of those they follow. 
The great men among the Romans had a num- 
ber of these Hangers-on, who attended them 
wherever they went, and were emphatically 
called Umbrae, or shadows ; and, indeed, this 
appellation conveys a very full idea of the nature 
of these humble retainers to the wealthy, since 
they not only follow them like their shadows, 
but " like a shadow prove the substance true :" 
for whenever you observe one or more of these 
UmbrsB perpetually at the heels of any gentle- 
man, you may fairly conclude him to be a man 
of fortune. 

These faithful friends are so careful of every 
thing that concerns you, that they always in- 
quire with the greatest exactness into your 
affairs, and know almost as well as your stewai'd 
the income of your estate. They are also so 
fond of your conmpany, and so desirous of pre- 
serving your good opinion, that a Hangei'-on 
will take as much pains to keep you entirely to 
himself, and to prevent a rival in your affections, 
as a mistress ; and as a convenient female is a 
very necessary part of the equipage of a person 
of fashion, these male companions must be a 
very agreeable part of the retinue of those high- 
spii'ited young gentlemen, who are fond of being 
the head of their company. It is only a more 
refined taste in expense to pay a man for laugh- 
ing at yovir wit, and indulging your humour ; 
and who will either drink his bottle with you 
at the tavern, or run to the end of the town for 
you on an errand. 



I might also take notice of an humbler sort of 
Hangers-on, who fix themselves to no one in 
particular, but fasten upon all their friends in 
their turns. Their views, indeed, are seldom 
extended bej'ond a present subsistence ; and their 
utmost aim perhaps is to get a dinner. For this 
purpose they keep a register of the hours of dining 
of all their acquaintance ; and though they con- 
trive to call in upon you just as you are sitting 
down to table, they are always with much diffi- 
culty prevailed upon to take a chair. If you 
dine abroad, or are gone into the country, they 
will eat with your family, to prevent their being 
melancholy on account of your absence ; or if 
your family is out, they will breakfast, dine, and 
sup with you out of charity, because you should 
not be alone. Everj-- house is haunted with 
these disturbers of our meals : and perhaps the 
best way to get rid of them would be, to put 
them, with the rest of your servants, upon 
board-wages. 

But besides these danglers after men of for- 
tune, and intruders on your table in town, the 
country breeds a race of lowly retainers, which 
may properly be ranked among the same species. 
Almost every family supports a poor kinsman ; 
who happening to be no way related to the 
estate, was too proud of his blood to apply him- 
self in his youth to any profession, and rather 
chose to be supported in laziness at the family- 
seat. They are, indeed, known perhaps to be 
cousins to the squire, but do not appeal' in a 
more creditable light, than his servants out of 
livery : and sometimes actually submit to as 
mean offices of drudgery, as the groom or whip- 
per-in. The whole fraternity of Hangers-on, 
whether in town or country, or under whatever 
denomination, are the sons of idleness : for it 
will be found upon examination, that whenever 
a man, whose bread depends on his industry, 
gives himself up to indolence, he becomes capa- 
ble of any meanness whatever; and if they 
cannot dig, yet, like our Hangers-on, to beg 
they are not ashamed. O. 



No. 98.] Thursday, Dec. 11, 1753. 



Ut id ostendcrcm, quod te istifadlan pulant. 
Id non fieri ex vera, vita, neque adcb ex a-quo ct bono, 

Sed ex assentando, indulgendo, et largicndo. 

Ter, 

What shall we call it ? folly, or good nature ? 
So soft, so simple, and so kind a creature! 
Where charity so blindly plays its part. 
It only shows tlie weakness of her heart ! 

TO MR. TOWN. 
Sir, 
I HAVK been some years married \o one of the 
best women in the world. She possesses all the 



No. 98.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



167 



virtues that can be named : but, alas ! she pos- 
sesses some of them to excess. Those which I 
wish to particularize, and which are infinitely- 
pernicious to me and my fortunes, are her super- 
abundant good-nature, and her boundless gene- 
rosity. 

It is a little difficult perhaps to ascertain, what 
ai'e, or ought to be, the exact bounds of good- 
natiu-e ; which, of all virtues, seems to me most 
necessary to be confined, or at least mitigated in 
such a manner, as to hinder it from destroying 
its own excellence and utility. On the one 
hand, if it is restrained too close, the woi'ld will 
say, that it must entirely lose its essence : but, 
on the other hand, fatal experience has convinced 
me, that if it is permitted to enjoy a full un- 
limited sway, this amiable virtue becomes a ridi- 
culous vice ; and brings with it, as in my wife's 
case, fruitless expenses, ill-judged concessions, 
and a kind of blind folly, that is always liable 
to contempt. 

Generosity is the daughter of good-nature. 
She is very fair and lovely, when under the 
tuition of judgment and reason ; but when she 
escapes from her tutors, and acts indiscrimi- 
nately, according as her fancy allures her, she 
subjects herself, like her mother, to sneer, ridi- 
cule, and disdain. 

To illustrate these assertions by some exam- 
ples from amiong the many mishaps, losses, and 
embarrassments, which have accrued to us in 
the course of our domestic affairs, give me leave 
to tell you, that some years ago, we had a foot- 
boy, who acted as butler, and had the custody of 
the little plate, which our small fortune could 
afford us. The fellow was awkward, and unfit 
for the station ; but my wife very good-naturedly 
was determined to keep him in our service, be- 
cause he intended to maiTy the nursery-maid, 
and would undoubtedly make an excellent hus- 
band. The rascal was a thief : but as it is ill- 
natured to suspect people, before we have full 
proof of their knavery, several of his tricks and 
petty larcenies were attributed to the itinerant 
JeAvs and higglers, (we then living at New- 
ington) who frequently called at our door. At 
last, however, after sevei'al rogueries, too evident 
to all, except the blindly good-natured, he went 
off ^vith my vs^ife's gold repeating "vvatch, and a 
pair of our best silver candlesticks, with which 
he voluntarily transported himself, as we have 
been since told, to the West Indies ; leaving his 
mistress the nursery-maid big with child, and 
thereby giving great license to the neighbour- 
hood to animadvert upon mty wife's amazing 
prescience in foreseeing his excellences as a 
husband. 

You must know. Sir, that my dear consort, in 
the full glow of her goodness, is never contented, 
unless her servants marry each other. All I 
can urge against so impolitic a custom, has been 
so no purpose : maiTiage (she says) prevents 



vice, and saves souls from destruction. Perhaps 
it may : but are no unmarried servants to be 
found in Mr. Fielding's register office, or else- 
where, but what are vicious ? At least I am 
sure, that this piece of sanctity is very expensive 
in its effects, and is attended with many incon- 
veniences. One of her maids, about two years 
ago, was discovered to be very intimate with my 
footman : my wife, to prevent ill consequences, 
hastened to have them married, and was present 
herself at the ceremony. She admired the 
modesty of the ■woman, and the sober gi-avity of 
the man, during the holy rites ; and was entirely 
convinced, that no harm could have happened 
from so decent a couple. In a short space after 
the marriage, Patty brought forth a swinging 
girl ; but as it was born almost six months 
before its time, my wife advised them to keep it 
the remaining half year in cotton. She did this 
purely from a motive of good-nature, to shield 
if possible the new-married woman's reputa- 
tion; but finding our neighbours fleer at the in- 
cident, and smile contemptuously at the pre- 
scription of cotton, she contented herself in be- 
lieving Patty's own account, that " in truth she 
had been married eight months before by a 
Fleet-parson, but was afraid to own it." 

If my wife's indulging her domestics in 
matrimony was productive of no other ill con- 
sequence than merely their being married, it 
might, indeed, sometimes prove a benefit ; but 
the chaster and more sober they have been before 
marriage, the gi'eater number of children are 
produced in matrimony ; and my ivife looks 
upon herself as in duty obliged to take care of 
the poor helpless offsprings, that have been be- 
gotten under her OAvn roof; so that, I assure 
you, Sir, my house is so well filled with chil- 
dren, that it would put you immediately in mind 
of the Foundling Hospital ; with this difference, 
however, that in my hospital not only the chil- 
dren are provided for, whether bastards or legiti- 
mate, but also the fathers and mothers. 

Your office, Mr. Censor, requires and leads 
you to hear domestic occurrences ; otherwise 1 
should scarce have troubled you with the records 
of a private family, almost ruined by excrescen- 
ces of virtue. The same overflowing humanity 
runs through the whole conduct of the dear 
woman whom I have mentioned. Even in 
trifles she is full of works of supererogation. 
Our doors are perpetually surrounded with beg- 
gars, where the halt, the maimed, and the blind, 
assemble in as great numbers as at the door of 
the Roman Catholic Chapel in Lincoln's-inn- 
fields. She not only gives them money, but, 
sends them out gi'eat quantities of bread, beer, 
and cold victuals ; and she has her different 
pensioners (as she herself calls them) for every 
day in the week. But the expense attending 
these out-door petitioners, many of whom have 
fronx time to time been discovered to be impos- 



168 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 99- 



tors, is nothing in comparison to the suras that 
are almost daily drawn from her by beggiiig 
letters. It is impossible to imagine a calamity, 
by which she has not been a sufferer, in reliev- 
ing those who have extorted money from her by 
pi'etended misfortunes. The poor lady has been 
much hurt by losses in trade, sustained great 
damages by fire, undei'gone many hardships from 
sickness, and other unforeseen accidents ; and it 
was but yesterday that she paid a long apothecary's 
t ill, brought on by a violent fever. Thus, Sir, 
though my wife keeps but little company, and the 
family expenses are to all appearance very small, 
yet this dear woman's superabundant good-na- 
ture is such a perpetual drawback on her eco- 
nomy, that we run out considerably. This ex- 
ti'avagant and ill-judged generosity renders all 
her numerous excellences of non-effect : and I 
have often known her almost destitute of clothes, 
because she had distributed her whole wardrobe 
among liars, sycophants, and hypocrites. 

Thus, Sir, as briefly as I can, I have set before 
you my unhappy case. I am perishing by de- 
grees : not by any real extravagance, any de- 
signed ruin, or any indulgence of luxury and 
riot, in the person who destroys me. On the 
contrary, no woman can excel my wife in the 
simplicity of her dress, the humility of her de- 
sires, or the contented easiness of her nature. 
What name, Sir, shall I give to my misfortunes ? 
They proceed not from vice, nor even from fol- 
ly ; they proceed from too tender a heart ; a heart 
that hurries away, or absorbs aU judgment and 
reflection. To call these errors the fruits of 
good nature, is too mild a definition : and yet to 
give them a harsher appellation, is unkind. Let 
me suffer what I will, I must kiss the dear hand 
that ruins me. 

In my tender hours of specxilation I would 
willingly impute my wife's faults to our climate, 
and the natural disposition of our natives. 
When the English are good-natured, they are 
generally so to excess : and as I have not seen 
this jmrticular character delineated in any of 
your papers, I have endeavoured to paint it my- 
self : and shall draw to the conclusion of my 
letter by one piece of advice, — Not to be gene- 
rous over-much. The highest acts of generosity 
are seldom repaid in any other coin but baseness 
and ingratitude ; and we ought ever to remem- 
ber, that, out of ten lepers cleansed, " one only 
came back to retui-n thanks ; the rest were made 
whole, and went their way." 

I am Sir, yom* most humble Servant, 

TiMON OF London. 






No. 99.] Thursday, Dec. 18, 1755. 

Da veniam, servirc tuis quod nolo Calendis. Mart. 
Thy works, O Wing, O Partridge, I despise. 
And Robin's for the poor, and Ryder's for the wisa 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



At this season of the year, while the streets re- 
sound with the cry of new almanacks, and evei^j 
stall is covered with news from the Stars, 
Diaries, Predictions, Complete Epheraerides, 
&c. drawn up by Partridge, Parker, Vincent 
Wing, and the rest of the sagacious body cf 
philomaths and astrologers, give me leave to ac- 
quaint you of my intentions of appearing an- 
nually in a like capacity. You must know. Sir, 
that having observed, that among the great a'B- 
riety of almanacks now published, there is not 
one contrived for the use of people of fashion, I 
have resolved to remedy this defect by publish- 
ing one every year under the title of the Court 
Calendar, calculated for the meridian of St. 
James's. 

The plan which has been hitherto followed by 
our almanack-makers, can be of no use whatever 
to the polite world, who are as widely separated, 
in their manner of living, from the common 
herd of people as the inhabitants of the anti- 
podes. To know the exact rising and setting of 
the sun, may sei've to direct the vulgar trades- 
man and mechanic when to open shop or go to 
work ; but persons of fashion whose hom-s are not 
marked by the course of that luminary, are in- 
different about its motions ! and, like those who 
live under the eqviinoctial line, have their days 
and nights of an equal degree of length all the 
year round. The red-letter-days, pointed out in 
our common almanacks, may perhaps be obser- 
ved by some formal ladies, who regulate their 
going to cluu'ch by them ; but people of quality 
perceive no difference between the moveable or 
immoveable feasts and fasts, and know no use of 
Sunday, but as it serves to call them to the card- 
table. What advantage can a beau reap from 
Ryder's List of the Fairs, which can only be of 
service to his groom ? Or what use can any gen- 
tleman or lady make of those Diai'ies now in- 
scribed to them, which are filled with algebra 
and the mathematics ? In a word, the present 
uncouth way of dividing the months into Saints' 
days, Sundays, and the like, is no more adapted 
to the present modes of polite life, than the Ro- 
man division into Ides, Nones, and Calends. 

Instead of supposing, Avitli the vulgar tribe of 
astronomers, that the day begins at sunrise, my 
day, which will commence at the time that it 
usually brc-iks in fasliionable apartments will be 
determined by the rising of people of quality. 
Thus the morning dawns with early risers be- 
tween eleven and twelve ; and noon commences 
at four, when, at this time of the year, the din- 
ner ai)d wax-lights come in together. For want of 
a thorough knowledge of the distribution of the 
day, all who have any connection witli the polite 
world might be guilty of many mistakes : and 
when an honest man fi'om Cornhill intcndod a 



No. 100.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



169 



nobleman a visit after dinner, he would perhaps 
find him sipping his moi'ning chocolate. The in- 
conveniences of the old style in our manner of 
reckoning the days were so manifest, that it was 
thought proper to amend them by act of parlia- 
ment. 1 am resolved, in like manner, to intro- 
duce the new style of dividing the hours into my 
almanacks : for can any thing be more absurd 
than to fix the name of morning, noon, and 
evening, at present on the same hours, which 
bore those appeliations in the reign of Queen 
Elizabeth ! A dutchess is so far from dining at 
eleven that it often happens, that her Grace has 
not then opened her eyes on the tea-table ; and 
a maid of honour would no more rise at five or 
six in the morning, as it was called by the early 
dames in Queen Bess's court, than she would, 
in imitation of those dames, breakfast upon 
strong beer and beef-steaks. Indeed, in those 
houses, where the hours of quality are observed 
by one part of the family, the impolite irregu- 
larity of the other, in adhering to the old style, 
occasions great disturbance ; for, as Lady 
Townly says, "such a house is worse than an 
inn with ten stage coaches. What between the 
impertinent people of business in a morning, 
and the intolerable thick shoes of footmen at 
noon, one has not a wink of sleep all night." 

The reformation which I have also made in 
respect to the red-letter-days is no less consider- 
able. I have not only wiped away that im- 
mense catalogue of saints, which crowd the 
Popish calendar, but have also blotted out all 
the other saints, that still retain their places in 
our common almanacks : well knowing that 
persons of fashion pay as little attention to the 
apostles and evangelists, as to St. Mildred, St. 
Bridget; or St. Winifred. Indeed, I retain the 
old name of St. John, because I am sure that 
people of quality will not think of any body's 
being designed under that title, except the late 
Bolingbroke. Having thus discarded the 
saints, people whom nobody knows, I have 
taken care to introduce my readers into the best 
company: for the red-letters in my calendar 
will serve to distinguish those days, on which 
ladies of the first fashion keep their routs and 
visiting days : a work of infinite use, as well to 
the persons of distinction themselves, as to all 
those who have any intercourse with the polite 
world. That season of the year, commonly dis- 
tinguished by the appellation of Lent, which 
implies a time of fasting, I shall consider, ac- 
cording to its real signification in the beau 
monde, as a yearly festival ; and shall, therefore, 
mention it under the denomination of the Car- 
nival. The propriety of this will be evident at 
first sight ; since nothing is so plain as that, at 
this season, all kinds of diversion and jollity are 
at their height in this metropolis. Instead of 
the Man and the Almanack, I at first intended 
(in imitation of Mr. Dodsley's memorandum 



book) to delineate the figure of a fine gentle- 
man, dressed a la mode : but I was at length 
determined, by the advice of some ingenious 
friends, to sufi'er the old picture to remain 
there : since, as it appears to be run through 
the body in several places, it may not impro- 
perly represent that fashionable character, 3 
duellist. 

In the place which is allotted in other almai^ 
nacks for the change of weather, (as hail, frost, 
snow, cloudy, and the like) I shall set down the 
change of dress, appropriated to different sea- 
sons, and ranged under the titles of hats, capu- 
chins, cardinals, sacks, negligees, gause hand- 
kerchiefs, ermine tippets, muffs, &c. and in a 
parallel column (according to the custom of 
other almanacks) I shall point out the several 
parts of the body affected by these changes ; 
such as head, neck, breast, shoulders, face, 
hands, feet, legs, &c. And as Mr. Ryder ac- 
companies every month with seasonable cau- 
tions about sowing turnips, raising cabbages, 
blood-letting, and the like important articles, I 
shall give such directions, as are most suitable 
to the beau monde ; as a specimen of which I 
shall beg leave to lay before you the following 

OBSERVATIONS 

ON 

THE MONTH OF MAY. 

If the season proves favourable, it will be 
proper at the beginning of this month to attend 
to the cultivation of our public gardens. Trim 
your trees, put your walks in order, look to 
your lamps, have ballads written, and set to 
music for the ensuing summei'. Ladies and 
gentlemen must be careful not to catch cold in 
crossing the water, or by exposing themselves to 
the damp air in the dark walk at Vauxhall. 

Towai'ds the middle of this month the air at 
both play-houses will begin to be too close and 
sultry for ladies that paint, to risk the loss of 
their complexion in them. 

About the end of this month it will be expe- 
dient for those ladies, who are apt to be hysteri- 
cal when the town empties, to prepare for their 
removal to Tunbridge, Cheltenham, and Scar- 
borough, for the benefit of the waters. 

I am. Sir, your humble Servant, 

W. TYCHO COURTLY. 



No. 100.] Thursday, Dec. 26, 1755. 



Ilicet parasitiae arti maximam in malam cnicem ! 

Abeo ab illis, postqiiam video me sic ludificarier. 

Per go ad alios : venio ad alios : deinde ad alios ; una ret. 

PtAlTT. 



170 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 100. 



Let Tyburn take the flatterers and their aits ; 
To fools a maygame J, a man of parts : 
Pull'd by the nose by one ; I'm kick'd by t'other ; 
And each sworn fool, I swear, has his sworn brother. 



TO MR. TOWN, 



Sir, 



I AM one of those idle people (of whom you 
have lately given an account) who, not being 
bred to any business, or able to get a livelihood 
by work, have taken up the servile trade of a 
hanger-on. But as you have only just touched 
on the many dangers and difficulties incident to 
this way of life, in ordei- to illustrate this part 
of the character, give me leave to present you 
with a narrative of my own adventures. 

I first served my time with an old nobleman 
in the country ; and as I was a distant relation 
of his lordship's, I was admitted to the honour 
of attending him in the double capacity of valet 
and apothecary. My business in the morning 
was to wait on him at dressing time : to hold 
the bason while he washed his hands, buckle his 
shoes, and tie on his neck-cloth : besides which, 
his lordship had such a regard for me, that no- 
body but myself was ever trusted with cutting 
his corns, or pairing his toe-nails ; and when- 
ever he was sick, it was always my office to hold 
his head during the operation of an emetic, to 
attend him in the water-closet when he took a 
cathartic, and sometimes to administer a clyster. 
If his lordship had no company, I was, indeed, 
permitted to sit at table with him; but when 
he received any visitors more grand than ordi- 
nary, I was equipped (together with some of 
the best looking tenants) in a tie-wig, full-trim- 
med coat, and laced waistcoat, in order to swell 
the retinue of his servants out of livery. I bore 
my slavery with the greatest degree of patience, 
as my lord would often hint to me, that I was 
provided for in his will : however, I had the 
mortification to find myself supplanted in his 
good graces by the chaplain, who had always 
looked upon me as his rival, and contrived at 
length to out- wheedle, out-fawn, and out-cringe 
me. In a word, my lord died : — and while the 
chaplain (who constantly prayed by him during 
his last illness) had the consolation of having a 
good benefice secured to him in the will, my 
name was huddled among those of the common 
servants, with no higher legacy than twenty 
guineas to buy mourning. 

With this small pittance (besides what I had 
made a shift to squeeze out of the tenants and 
tradesmen, as fees for my good word, when I 
had his lordship's ear) I came up to town, and 
embarked all I was worth in fitting myself out 
as a gentleman. Soon after, as good luck would 
have it, the nephew and heir of my old lord 
came from abroad, when I contrived to get into 
his favour by abusing his deceased uncle, and 
fastened myself upon him. It is true, he sup- 



ported me ; admitted me into an equal share 
of his purse ; but considering the dangers to 
which I was constantly exposed on his account, 
I regarded his bounties as only plasters to my 
sores. My head, back, and ribs, have received 
many a payment, which should have been placed 
to his lordship's account : and I once narrowly 
escaped being hanged for murdering a poor fel- 
low, whom my lord in a frolic had run through 
the body. My patron, among other marks of 
his taste, kept a mistress ; and I, as his parti- 
cular crony and a man of honour, was allowed 
to visit her. It happened, one evening, he un- 
luckily surprised us in some unguarded familia- 
rities together ; but my lord was so far from be- 
ing enraged at it, that he only turned madam 
down stairs, and very coolly kicked me down 
after her. 

I was now thrown upon the wide world again ; 
but as 1 never wanted assurance, I soon made 
myself very familiarly acquainted with a young 
gentleman from Ireland, who was just come 
over to England to spend his estate here. I 
must own, I had some difficulty in keeping on 
good terms with this new friend ; as I had so 
many of his own countrymen to contend with, 
who all claimed a right of acquaintance with 
him, and some of them even pretended to be re- 
lated to him. Besides, they all persuaded the 
young squire, that they had fortunes in different 
parts of Ireland ; though not one of them had 
any real estate more than myself: and, indeed, 
I also had a nominal £1500. per ann. in the 
West Indies. These furious fellows (for. Sir, 
they would all fight) gave me much trouble: 
however, I found out my young friend's foible, 
and in spite of his countrymen became his in- 
separable companion. He was not only very 
fond of women, but had a particular passion for 
new faces; and to humour this inclination, I 
was perpetually on the look out to discover fresh 
pieces for him. I brought him mantuamakers, 
milliners, and servant maids in abundance ; and 
at length grew so great a favourite, by having 
prevailed on one of my own cousins to comply 
with his proposals, that I verily believe he would 
soon have made me easy for life in a handsome 
annuity, if he had not been unfortunately run 
through the body in a duel by one of his own 
countrymen. 

I next got into favour with an old colonel of 
the guards, who happened to take a fancy to me 
one evening at the Tilt-yard coffee-house, for 
having carried off a pint bumper more than a 
lieutenant of a man of war, that had challenged 
my toast. As his sole delight -was centered in 
the bottle, all he required of me was to drink 
glass for glass with him ; which I readily com- 
plied with, as he always paid my reckoning. 
When sober, he was the best humoured man in 
the world ; but he was very apt to be quarrel- 
some and extremely mischievous when in liquor. 



No. 101.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



171 



He has more than once flung a bottle at my 
head, and emptied the contents of a bowl of 
punch in ray face : sometimes he has divei'ted 
himself by setting fire to my ruffles, shaking the 
ashes of his pipe over my periwig, or making 
a thrust at me with the red-hot poker : and I 
remember he once soused me all over with the 
urine of the whole company, by clapping a large 
pewter Jordan topsy-turvy upon my head. All 
these indignities I very patiently put up with, 
as he was sure to make me double amends for 
them the next morning : and I was very near 
procuring a commission in the army through his 
interest, when, to my great disappointment, he 
was suddenly carried off by an apoplexy. 

You will be surprised when 1 tell you, that I 
next contrived to squeeze myself into the good 
opinion of a I'ich old curmudgeon, a city mer- 
chant, and one of the circumcised. He could 
have no objection to my religion, as I used to 
spend every Sunday with him at his country- 
house, where I preferred playing at cards to go- 
ing to church. Nor could I, indeed, get any 
thing out of him beyond a dinner: but I had 
higher points in view. As he had nobody to in- 
herit his fortune but an only daughter, (who was 
kept always in the country) I became so des- 
perately in love with her, that I would even 
have turned Jew to obtain her : but instead of 
that, 1 very foolishly made a Christian of her ; 
and we were privately married at the Fleet. 
When I came to break the matter to the father, 
and to make an apology for having converted 
her, he received me with a loud laugh. " Sir," 
says he, "if my child had mari-ied the devil, he 
should have had every penny that was her due. 
But, as she is only my bastard, the law cannot 
oblige me to give her a farthing." 

This I found to be too true : and very happily 
for me, my Christian wife had so little regard 
for her new religion, that she again became an 
apostate, and was taken into keeping, (to which I 
readily gave my consent) by one of her own tribe 
and complexion. I shall not tire you with a 
particular detail of what has happened to me 
since : I shall only acquaint you that I have ex- 
actly followed the precept of "becoming all 
things to all men." I was once supported very 
splendidly by a youUj^ rake of quality for my wit 
in talking blasphemy, and ridiculing the Bible, 
till my patron shot himself through the head : 
and I lived at bed and board with an old me- 
thodist lady for near a twelvemonth, on account 
of my zeal for the new doctrine, till one of the 
maid servants wickedly laid a child to me. At 
present, Mr. Town, I am quite out of employ ; 
having just lost a very profitable place, which I 
held under a great man in quality of his pimp. 
My disgrace was owing to the baseness of an 
old Covent-garden acquaintance, whom I palm- 
ed upon his honour for an innocent creature just 
come out of the cuontry : but the hussy was so 



ungrateful as to bestow on both of us convincing 
marks of her thorough knowledge of the town. 
I am, Sir, 

Your very humble Servant, 
Peter Supple. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I have a little god-daughter in the country, to 
whom I every year send some diverting and in- 
structive book for a New- Year's gift : I would 
therefore beg you to recommend to me one fit 
for the purpose ; which will oblige. 

Your humble Servant, 
T W ., 



TO MR. T- 



SiR, 



I know no book so fit for your purpose as the 
Connoisseur, lately published in two pocket 
volumes ; which I would further recommend to 
all fathers and mothers, grandfathers and grand- 
mothers, uncles and aunts, godfathers and god- 
mothers, to give to their sons and daughters, 
grandsons and granddaughters, nephews and 
nieces, godsons and goddaughters ; — as being 
undoubtedly the best present at this season of 
the year, that can possibly be thought of. 

TOWN, Connoisseur. 

N. B. — Large allowance to those who buy quan- 
tities to give away. T. 



No. 101. ] Thursday, Jan. 1, 1736. 



Janique bifrontis imago. lVirg. 

In two-faced Janus we this moral find ; 
While we look forward, we should look behind. 

As the appointed time of our publication now 
happens to fall on New- Year's day, I cannot 
open the business of the year with a better grace, 
than by taking the present hour for the subject 
of this paper, — a subject, which pleases me the 
more, as it also gives me an opportunity of pay- 
ing my readers the compliments of the season, 
and most sincerely wishing them all a happy 
new year, and a great many of them. But, in 
order to make these civilities of more consequence 
than a bare compliment, I will also endeavour 
to give them a little wholesome advice ; by which 
they may be most likely to ensure to themselves 
that happiness, and to go through the ensuing 
year with ease and tranquillity. 

No god in the Heathen Pantheon was ex- 
pressed by more proper emblems, or more mag- 
nificently represented than Janus ; whom we 
may fairly style, in our language, the god of the 
new year. The medals on which the image of 
this deity was engraved, bore two faces, not 



172 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 101. 



ogling each other like those on the shillings of 
Philip and Mary, nor cheek by jowl like the 
double visage on the coin of William and Mary, 
but turned from each other ; one looking for- 
wards, as it were into futurity, and the other 
taking a retrospective view of what was past. 
There cannot be devised a stronger, or more sen- 
sible lesson of moral instruction, than this figure 
teaches us. This double view comprehends in 
itself the sum of human prudence ; for the most 
perfect i-eason can go no higher than wisely to 
gtiess at the future, by reflecting on the past ; 
and morality is never so likely to persevere in a 
steady and uniform course, as when it sets out 
■with a fixed determination of mutually regulat- 
ing the new year by a recollection of the old, 
and at the same time making the succeeding a 
comment on the last. 

Most of the faults in the general conduct of 
mankind, and their frequent miscarriages in 
their most favourite enterprises, will be found, 
upon examination, to I'esult from an imperfect 
and partial view of what relates to their duty or 
undertakings. Some regulate their actions by 
blind guess, and rashly presuming on the futui'e, 
without the least attention to the past. With 
these the impetuosity of the passions gives their 
reason no scope to exert itself, but neglecting the 
premises, they jump to a conclusion. Others, 
who are often taken for men of deep reflection 
and marvellous understanding, meditate so pro- 
foundly on the past, that they scarce take any 
notice either of the present or the future. To 
these two characters, Avhose misconduct arises 
from two such contrary sources, may indeed be 
added a third, whose wild irregular behaviour 
is founded on no fixed principles, but proceeds 
from a total absence of thought and reflection. 
These easy creatures act entirely at random, 
neither troubling themselves with what has 
been, what is, or what will be ; and, as the 
image of Janus seems to bear two heads, these 
thoughtless vacant animals may almost be said 
to have no head at all. 

But that the necessity of taking this compre- 
hensive view of our affairs may appear in the 
stronger light, let us consider the many difficul- 
ties, in which men of any of the above charac- 
ters are involved, from a total neglect or partial 
survey of matters that should influence their 
conduct. The first sort of men, who nourish 
great expectations from the future, and suffer 
hope to lay their prudence to sleep, are very 
common ; indeed, almost every man, like the 
dairy-maid with her pail of milk, pleases him- 
self with calculating the advantages he shall 
reap from his undertakings. There is scarce a 
servitor at cither university, who, when he takes 
orders, does not think it more than possible he 
may one day be a bishop, or at least head of a 
college, though perhaps at first he is glad to snap 
Ut a curacy. Every walking attendant on our 



hospitals flatters himself that a few years will 
settle him in high practice and a chariot : and 
among those few gentlemen of the inns of court, 
who really deserve the name of students, there 
is hardly one who sits down to Lord Coke with- 
out imagining that he may himself, some time 
or other, be Lord Chancellor. At this early 
period of life these vain hopes may perhaps serve 
as spurs to diligence and virtue ; but what shall 
we say to those people, who in spite of experi- 
ence and repeated disappointments, still place 
their chief dependence on groundless expecta- 
tions from their future fortune? This town 
swarms with people who rely almost solely on 
contingencies : and our gaols are often filled 
with wretches, who brought on their own po- 
verty and misfortunes, by promising themselves 
great profit from some dai-ling scheme, which 
has at last been attended with bankruptcy. The 
present extravagance of many of our spend- 
thrifts is built on some ideal riches, of which 
they are soon to be in possession ; and which 
they are laying out as freely as the girl in the 
farce squanders the ten thousand pounds she 
was to get in the lottery. I am myself acquaint- 
ed with a young fellow, who had great expecta- 
tions from an old uncle. He had ten thousand 
pounds of his own in ready money; and as the 
old gentleman was of an infirm constitution, 
and turned of sixty, the nephew very consider- 
ately computed, that his uncle could hardly last 
above five years, dui'ing which time he might go 
on very genteelly at the rate of £2000 per ann. 
However the old gentleman held together above 
seven years, the last two of which our young 
spark had no consolation, but the daily hopes of 
his uncle's death. The happy hour at length 
arrived ; the will was tore open with raptm-e ; 
when, alas ! the fond youth discovered, that he 
had never once reflected that though he had a 
ticket in the wheel, it might possibly come up a 
blank, and had the mortification to find himself 
disinherited. 

I shall not dwell so particularly on the ridicu- 
lous folly of those profound speculatists, who fix 
their attention entirely on what is past, without 
making their reflections of service either for the 
present or the futui'e, because it is not a very 
common or tempting species of absurdity ; but 
shall rather advise the reader to consider the 
time pastas the school of experience, from which 
he may draw the most useful lessons for his fu- 
tui'e conduct. This kind of reti'ospect would 
teach us to provide with foresight against the 
calamities to which our inexperience has hitherto 
exposed us, though at the same time it would 
not throw us so far back, as to keep us lagging, 
like the old style, behind the rest of the world. 
To say the truth, those sage persons who are 
given to such deep reflection, as to let to-day aud 
to-mori*ow pass unregarded by meditating on 
yesterday, are as ridiculous in their conduct ;i3 



No. 102.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



173 



country beaux in their dress, wlio adopt the 
town modes, just after they are become unfash- 
ionable in London. 

But there is no task so diflScult, as to infuse 
ideas into a brain hitherto entirely unaccus- 
tomed to thinking : for how can we w^arn a man 
to avoid the misfortunes which may hereafter 
befall him, or to improve by the calamities he 
has already suffered, whose actions are not the 
result of thought, or guided by experience? 
These persons are, indeed, of all others, the 
most to be pitied. They are prodigal and aban- 
doned in their conduct, and by vicious excesses 
ruin their constitution, till at length poverty 
and death stare them in the face at the same 
time ; or if, unfortunately, their crazy frame 
holds together after the utter desti'uction of their 
fortune, they finish a thoughtless life by an act 
of desperation, and a pistol puts an end to tbeii' 
miseries. 

Since, then, good fortune cannot be expected 
to fall into our laps, and it requires some 
thought to ensure to ourselves a likelihood of 
success in our undertakings, let us look back 
with attention on the old year, and gather in- 
structions from it in what manner to conduct 
oui'seh'es through the new. Let us also endea- 
vour to draw from it a lesson of morality : and 
I hope it will not be thought too solemn a con- 
clusion of this paper, if I advise my readers to 
carry this i-eflection even into religion. This 
train of thought, that teaches us at once to re- 
flect on the past, and look forward to the future, 
will also naturally lead us to look up with awe 
and admiration towards that Being who has 
existed from all eternity, and shall exist 
world without end. No consideration can 
give us a more exalted idea of the Power 
who first created us, and whose providence is al- 
ways over us. Let us then consider with at- 
tention this pagan image, by which we may 
add force to our morality, and prudence to 
our ordinary conduct ; nor let us blush to re- 
ceive a lesson from Heathens, which may ani- 
mate our zeal and reverence for the Author of 
Christianity. O. 



No. 102.] Thursday, Jan. 8, 1756. 



-Pater! necjumpater- 



O shame to ancestry ! his Grace's son 
Owes his vile birth to Harry or to John. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



It has been my good fortime to be born of a fa- 
mily that is recorded in the Herald's dictionary 
as one of the most ancient in the kingdom. We 
are supposed to have come into England with 



William the Conqueror. Upon my accession, 
some years ago, to my elder brother's estate 
and title of a Baronet, I reqeived a visit from 
Rouge Dragon, Esq. Pursuivant at Arms to 
congratulate me upon my new rank of a 
Vavasour, and to know whether I should 
choose to bear the Dexter Base Points of the 
Lady Isabel's Saltire in Chief, or only her Si- 
nister Comers, she being one of the seventeen 
coheiresses of my great great great great great 
grandfather's fourth wife Dort)thy, the daugh- 
ter and sole heiress of Simon de la Frogpool of 
Croakham in Suffolk. This unexpected visit 
must have disconx^erted me to an invincible de- 
gree, if upon recollection I had not only remem- 
bered Mr. Rouge Dragon as a constant com- 
panion to my late brother, but as a kind of 
tutor, in initiating him into the science of 
heraldry, and the civil and military achieve- 
ments, to which our nobility and gentry are en- 
titled. As soon, therefore, as I could recover 
myself from my first surprise, in hearing an 
unknown English language, I humbly thanked 
Mr. Dragon for the pains he had taken in eon- 
sidering my coat of arms so minutely; but 
hoped he woidd give himself no further trouble 
upon my account, because I was fully deter- 
mined to bear the plain shield of my grandfa- 
ther Peter, without taking the least notice of 
Lady Isabel's Saltire in Chief or even of her 
Sinister Comers. 

Be it to my shame or not, I must confess that 
heraldry is a science which I have never much 
cultivated; nor do I find it very prevalent 
among the fashionable studies of the age. Arms 
and armorial tokens may, I suppose, be regu- 
larly distinguished, and properly emblazoned, 
upon the family plate to which they belong : 
but I have observed of late, that these honoura- 
ble ensigns are not confined entirely to theii* 
proper owners, but are usm-ped by every body 
Avho thinks fit to take them ; insomuch that 
there is scai'ce a hackney coach in London which 
is not in possession of a ducal crest, an earl's 
coronet, or a baronet's bloody hand. This, in- 
deed, has often given me great offence, as it re- 
flects a scandal on our nobility and gentry ; and 
I cannot but think it very indecent for a duke's 
coach to be seen waiting at a night-cellar, or for 
a countess's landau to set down ladies at the 
door of a common bawdy-house. I remember 
I was one morning disturbed at my breakfast by 
a fashionable rap at my door ; when looking out 
of my window, I saw the coach of the Lady 
Dowager drawn up before it. I was ex- 
tremely surprised at so early and unexpected a 
visit from her ladyship ; and while I was pre- 
paring to receive her, I overheard her ladyship 
at high words with her coachman in my entry. 
When stepping to the staircase, I found that the 
coachman and her ladyship, represented iu the 
person of one of my house-maids, were squah- 



174 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 102. 



bJing together about sixpence. This badge of 
nobility, assumed at random according to the 
fancy of the coach-painter, I have found incon- 
venient on other occasions : for 1 once travelled 
from London to Derby in a hired chariot, finely 
ornamented with a viscount's cypher and coro- 
net ; by which noble circumstances 1 was com- 
pelled in everj inn to pay as a lord, though I 
was not at that time even a simple baronet, or 
(in the language of my friend Mr. Dragon) ar- 
rived to the dignity of a Vavasour. 

I have sometimes doubted, whether nobility 
and high rank are of that real advantage which 
they are generally esteemed to be ; and I am al- 
most inclined to think that they answer no de- 
sirable end, but as far as they indulge our vanity 
and ostentation. A long I'oll of ennobled an- 
cestors makes, I confess, a very allm'ing appear- 
ance. To see coronet after coronet passing before 
our view in an uninterrupted succession, is the 
most soothing prospect that perhaps can present 
itself to the eye of human pride : the exaltation 
that we feel upon such a review, takes rise in a 
visionary and secret piece of flattery, that as 
glorious, and as long, or even a longer line of 
future coronets may spring from ourselves, as 
have descended from our ancestors. We read in 
Virgil, that Anchises, to inspire his son with 
the properest incitement to virtue, shows him a 
long race of kings, emperors, and heroes, to 
whom ^.neas is fore-doomed to give their ori- 
gin ; and the misery of Macbeth is made by 
Shakspeai'e to proceed, less from the conscious- 
ness of guilt, than from the disappointed pride, 
that none of his own race shall succeed him in 
the throne. 

The pride of ancestry, and the desire of con- 
tinuing our lineage, when they tend to an 
incitement of virtuous and noble actions, are 
undoubtedly laudable ; and I should, perhaps, 
have indulged myself in the pleasing reflection, 
had not a particular story in a French novel, 
which I lately met with, put a stop to all vain 
glories, that can possibly be deduced from a long 
race of progenitors. 

" A nobleman of an ancient house, of very 
high rank and great fortune, (says the novelist) 
died suddenly, and without being permitted to 
stop at purgatory, was sent down immediately 
into hell. He had not been long there, before 
he met with his coachman Thomas, who like 
his noble master was gnashing his teorh among 
thfc damned. Thomas, surprised to behold hh 
lordship amidst the shai-pers, thieves, pick- 
pockets, and all the canaille of hell, started and 
cried out in a tone of admiration, ' Is it possi- 
ble, that I see my late master among Lucifer's 
tribe of beggars, rogues, and pilferers ! How 
much am I astonished to find your lordship in 
this place ! Your lordshi-p ! whose generosity 
was so great, whose affluent housekeeping drew 
such crowds of nobility gentry, and friends to 



your table, and within your gates, and whose 
fine taste employed such numbers of poor in 
your gardens, by building temples and obelisks, 
and by forming lakes of water, that seemed to 
^ie with the largest oceans of the creation ! 
Pray, my lord, if I may be so bold, what crime 
has brought your lordship into this cursed as- 
sembly ?' — ' Ah, Thomas,' replied his lordship, 
with his usual condescension, ' I have been 
sent hither for having defrauded my royal mas- 
ter, and cheating the widows and fatherless, 
solely to enrich and purchase titles, honours, 
and estates for that ungrateful rascal, my only 
son. But prithee, Thomas, tell me, as thou 
didst always seem to be an honest, careful, sober 
servant, what brought thee hither ?' * Alas ! 
my noble lord,' replied Thomas, * I was sent 
hither for begetting that son.' " 

I am, Sir, your humble servant, 

Reginald Fitzworm. 

I must agree with my correspondent, that the 
study of heraldry is at present in very little re- 
pute among us ; and our nobility are more anxi- 
ous about preserving the genealogy' of their 
horses, than of their own family. Whatever value 
theii' progenitors may have formerly set upon 
their blood, it is now found to be of no Aalue, 
when put into the scale and weighed against 
solid plebeian gold : nor would the most illus- 
trious descendant from Cadwallader, or the 
Irish kings, scruple to deljase his lineage by an 
alj'iance with the daughter of a city-plum, 
though all her ancestors were yeomen, and 
none of her family ever bore anns. Titles of 
quality, Avlien the owners have no other merit 
to recommend them, are of no more estimation, 
than those which the courtesy of the vulgar 
have bestowed on the deformed : and when I 
look over a long tree of descent, I sometimes 
fancy I can discover the real characters of 
sharpers, reprobates, and plunderers of their 
country, concealed under the titles of dukes, 
earls, and viscounts. 

It is well known, that the very servants, in 
the absence of their masters, assume the same 
titles ; and Tom or Harry, the footman or 
groom of his Grace, is always my Lord Duke 
in the kitchen or stables. For this reason, I 
have thought ])roper to present my reader with 
the pedigi'ee of a footman, drawn up in the 
same sounding titles, as are so pompously dis- 
l»layed on these occasions : and I dare say, it 
will appear no less illustrious, than the pedi- 
grees of many families, which are neither cele- 
brated for their actions, nor distinguished by 
their virtues. 

The family of the Skips, or Skipkenn^ls, is 
very ancient and noble. The founder of it, IMaitre 
Jaques, came into I'2ngland with the Dutchess 
of Mazarine. He was son of a prince of the blood, 
his mother one of the ^fesda})U•s of France : this 



No. 103.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



175 



family is therefore related to the most illus- 
trious Maitres (T Hotel and Valets de Chambre 
of that kingdom. Jacques had issue two sous, 
riz. Robert and Paul; of whom Paul, the 
youngest, was invested with the purple before 
he was eighteen, and made a bishop, and soon 
after became an archbishop. Robert, the elder, 
came to be a duke, but died without issue : Paul, 
the archbishop, left behind him an only daugh- 
ter, Bai'bara, base-born, who was afterwards 
maid of honour ; and intermarrying with a lord 
of the bed-chamber, had a very numerous issue 
by him ; viz. Rebecca, born a week after their 
marriage, and died young ; Joseph, first a squire, 
afterwards knighted, high sheriff of a county, 
and colonel of the militia ; Peter, raised from a 
cabin boy to a lord of the admiralty ; William, 
a faggot in the first regiment of the guards, and 
a brigadier; Thomas, at first an earl's eldest 
son, and afterwards a brewer and lord mayor of 
the city of London. The several branches of 
this family were no less distinguished for their 
illustrious progeny. Jacques, the founder, first 
quartered lace on his coat, and Robert added the 
shoulder knot. Some of them, indeed, met with 
great trouble : Archbishop Paul lost his see for 
getting a cook- maid with child; Barbara, the 
maid of honour, was dismissed with a big belly; 
brigadier William was killed by a chairman in 
a pitched battle at an ale-house ; the lord of the 
admiralty was transported for seven years, and 
duke Robert had the misfortune to be hanged 
at Tyburn. 



No. 103.] Thursday, Jan. 15, 1756. 



NiJiil videiur mundius. 



Ter. 



The house so neat, so nice within, 
'Tis pity we should enter in. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I AM married to a lady of a very nice and deli- 
cate disposition, who is cried up by all the good 
women of her acquaintance, for being the neat- 
est body in her house they ever knew. This, Sir, 
is my gi'ievance : this extraordinary neatness is 
so very troublesome and disgusting to me, that 
I protest I had rather lodge in a carrier's inn, 
or take up my abode with the horses in the 
stables. 

It must be confessed, that a due regard to 
neatness and cleanliness is as necessary to be ob- 
served in our habitations as our persons : but 
though I should not choose to have my hands be- 
grimmed like a chimney-sweeper's, I would not, 
like the superstitious Mahometans ivash them 



six times a day : and though I should be loth to 
roll in a pig-stye, yet I do not like to have my 
house rendered useless to me under the pretence 
of keeping it clean. 

For my own part, I cannot see the difference 
between having a house that is always dirty, and 
a house that is always to be cleaned. I could 
very willingly compound to be washed out of 
my home, with other masters of families, every 
Saturday night : but my wife is so very notable, 
that the same cleansing work must be repeated 
every day in the week. All the moi-ning long 
I am sure to be entertained with the domestic 
concert of scrubbing the floors, scoui'ing the 
irons, and beating the carpets, and I am con- 
stantly hunted from room to room, while one is 
to be dusted, another dry-rubbed, another wash- 
ed, and another run over with a dry mop. Thus, 
indeed, I may be said to live in continual dirti- 
ness, that my house may be clean : for during 
these nice operations every apartment is stowed 
with soap, brick-dust, sand, scrubbing-brushes, 
hair-brooms, rag-mops, and dishclouts. 

You may suppose, that the greatest care is 
taken to prevent the least speck of dirt from 
soiling the floors. For this reason, all that come 
to our house, (besides the ceremony of scraping 
at the door,) ai'e obliged to rub their shoes for 
half an hour on a large ragged mat at the en- 
trance ; and then they must straddle their way 
along several lesser mats, ranged at due distances 
from each other in the passage, and (like boys at 
play) come into the room with a hop, a step, 
and a jump. The like caution is used by all the 
family : I myself am scarce allowed to stir a 
step without slippers ; my wife creeps on tip- 
toe up and down stairs ; the maid-servants are 
continually stumping below in clogs or pattens; 
and the footman is obliged to sneak about the 
house barefooted, as if he came with a sly design 
to steal something. 

After what has been said, you will naturally 
conclude, that my wife must be.no less nice in 
other particulars. But, as it is observed by 
Swift, that " a nice man is a man of nasty 
ideas," in like manner we may affirm, that your 
very neat people are the most slovenly on many 
occasions. They cannot conceive, that any 
thing which is done by such delicate persons can 
possibly give offence. I have, therefore, often 
been in pain for my wife, when 1 have seen her, 
before company, dust the tea-cups with a foul 
apron or a washing gown ; and I have more 
than once blushed for her, when, through her 
extreme cleanliness, she has not been contented 
without breathing into our drinking-glasses, 
and afterwards wiping them with her pocket- 
handkerchief. People, Mr. Town, who are 
not very intimate with families seldom see them 
(especially the female part) but in disguise : and 
it will be readily allowed, that a lady wears a 



176 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. I OS. 



very different aspect, when she comes before 
company, than when she first sits down to her 
toilet. My wife appears decent enough in her 
apparel, to those w^ho risit us in the afternoon ; 
but in the morning she is quite another figure. 
Her usual dishabille then is, an ordinary stuff 
jacket and petticoat, a double clout thrown over 
her head and pinned under her chin, a black 
greasy bonnet, and a coarse dowlas apron ; so 
that you would rather take her for a char-wo- 
man. Nor, indeed, does she scruple to stoop to 
the meanest drudgery of such an occupation; 
for so great is her love of cleanliness, that I have 
often seen her on her knees scouring the hearth, 
and spreading dabs of vinegar and fuller's earth 
on the boards. 

This extraordinary solicitude in my wife, for 
the cleanliness of her rooms and the care and 
preservation of her furniture, makes my house 
entirely useless, and takes away all that ease and 
familiarity, which is the chief comfort of one's 
own home. I am obliged to make shift with 
the most ordinary accommodations, that the 
more handsome pieces of furniture may remain 
unsoiled, and be always set out for show and 
magnificence. I am never allowed to eat from 
any thing better than a delft plate, that the eco- 
nomy of the beaufait, Avhich is embellished with 
a variety of china, may not be disarranged ; and, 
indeed, my wife prides herself particularly on 
her ingenious contrivance in this article, having 
ranged among the rest some old china not fit for 
use, but disposed in such a manner, as to conceal 
the streakes of white paint that cement the brokeu 
pieces together. I must drink my beer out of 
an earthen mug, though a great quantity of plate 
is constantly displayed on the side-board ; while 
all the furniture, except when we have compa- 
ny, is done up in paper, as if the family, to whom 
it belongs, were gone into the country. In a 
word, Sir, any thing that is decent and cleanly 
is too good to be used for fear it should be 
dirtied ; and I live with every convenience at 
band, without the power of enjoying one of 
them. I have elegant apartments, but am almost 
afraid to enter them ; I have plate, china, and 
the most genteel furniture, but must not use 
them; which is as ridiculous an absurdity aud 
almost as great a hardship, as if 1 had hands 
without the power of moving them ; the organs 
of sight, smell, taste, without being suffered to 
exert them, and feet without being permitted 
to walk. 

Thus, Sir, this extravagant passion foi* clean- 
liness, so predominant in my wife, keeps the 
family in a perpetual state of muck and dirt; 
and while we are surrounded with all necess.^- 
rits, subjects us to every inconvenience. But 
what makes it a still greater grievance is, that it 
has been the ridiculous cause of many other mis- 
fortunes. I have sometimes created her angc« 



by littering the room with throwing mygartera 
on a chair, or hanging my peruke on one of the 
gilt sconces. Having once unluckily spilt a 
bottle of ink on one of the best carpets, she was 
irreconcileable for a month ; and J had scarce 
brought her to temper again, when I most un- 
fortunately ran against the footman, who was 
entering with the dinner, and threw down a leg 
of pork and pease-pudding on the parlour floor. 
This superabundant neatness did once also very 
nearly occasion my death ; for while I lay ill of 
a fever, my delicate wife, thinking it would re- 
fresh me, ordered my bed-chamber to be mop- 
ped : and the same scrupulous nicety was also 
the means of our losing a very considerable ad- 
dition to our fortune. 

A rich old uncle, on whom we had great de- 
pendence, came up to town last summer on pur- 
pose to pay us a visit ; but though he had rode 
above sixty miles that day, he was obliged to 
stand in the passage till his boots were pulled off, 
for fear of soiling the Turkey carpet. After 
supper, the old gentleman, as was his constant 
practice, desired to have his pipe : but this you 
may be sure could by no means be allowed, as 
the filthy stench of the tobacco would never be 
gotten out of the furniture again ; and it was 
with much ado, that my wife would even suffer 
him to go down and smoke in the kitchen. We 
had no room to lodge him in, except a garret; 
with nothing but bare walls ; because the chintz 
bed-chamber was, indeed, too nice for a dirty 
country squire. These slights very much cha- 
grined my good uncle ; but he had not been with 
us above a day or two, before my wife and he came 
to an open quarrel on the following occasion. 
It happened that he had brought a favourite 
pointer with him, who at his first coming, was 
immediately locked up in the coal-hole ; but the 
dog having found means to escape, had crept 
slyly up stairs, and (besides other marks of his 
want of delicacy) had very calmly stretched him- 
self out upon a crimson damask settee. My 
wife not only sentenced him to the discipline of 
the whip, but insisted upon having the criminal 
hanged up afterwards ; when tlie master inter- 
posing in his behalf, it produced such high 
words between them, that my uncle ordered his 
horse, and swore he would never darken our 
doors again as long as he breathed. He went 
home, and, about two months after, died : but 
as he could not forget the ill treatment which 
both he and his dog had met with at our house, 
he had altered his will, which before he had 
mad« entirely in our favom-. 

I am, Sir, yours. &c. 

T. Peter Plainalu 



No. 104,] 



THE CONNOISSEUR 



17' 



No. 104.1 Thursday, Jan. 22, 1756. 



Actum est j Ilicet ; Peristi. 
Ruin'd and undone ! 



Tkr. 



The use of language is the ready communication 
of our thoughts to one another. As we cannot 
produce the objects, which raise ideas in our 
minds, we use words which are made signs of 
those objects. No man could otherwise convey 
to another the idea of a table or chair, without 
pointing to those pieces of furniture — as children 
are taught to remember the names of things by 
looking at their pictures. Thus, if I wanted to 
mention king Charles on horse-back, I must 
c-arry my companion to Charing-cross ; and 
would I next tell him of the statue of Sir John 
Barnard, we must trudge back again, and he 
must wait for my meaning till we get to the 
Royal Exchange. We should be like the sages 
of Laputa, who (as Gulliver tells us) having 
substituted things for words, used to carry about 
them such things as were necessary to express 
the particular business they were to discourse 
on. " I have often beheld (says he) two of those 
sages almost sinking under the weight of their 
packs, like pedlars among us : who, when they 
meet in the streets, would lay down their loads, 
open their sacks, and hold conversation for an 
hour together ; then put up their implements, 
help each other to resume their burthens, and 
take their leave." In these circumstances, a 
man of the fewest words could not, indeed, talk 
without carrying about him a much larger ap- 
paratus, than is contained in thebagof the noted 
Yeates, or any other slight-of-hand artist : he 
could not speak of a chicken or an owl, but it 
must be ready in his pocket to be produced. In 
such a case we could not say we heard, but we 
saw the conversation of a friend ; as in the epis- 
tolary correspondence, carried on by those pretty 
hieroglyphic letters (as they are called,) where 
the picture of a deer and a woman finely drest 
is made to stand for the expression of dear 
lady. 

But the invention of words has removed 
these difficulties; and ■we may talk not only of 
any thing we have seen, but what neither we, 
nor the persons to whom we speak ever saw. 
Thus we can convey to another the idea of a 
battle, without being reduced to the disagreeable 
necessity of learning it from the cannon's mouth : 
and we can talk of the people in the world of 
the moon, without being obliged to make use of 
Bishop Wilkins's artificial wings to fly thither. 
Words, therefore, in the ordinary course of life, 
are like the paper money among merchants ; 
invented as a more ready conveyance, by which 
the largest sum can be ti-ansmitted to the most 
distant places with as much ease as a letter j 



while the same in specie, would require bags 
and chests, and even carts or ships to transport 
it. But, however gi'eat these advantages are, 
the use of language has brought along with it 
several inconveniences, as well aspaper money ; 
for as this latter is more liable to miscarry, more 
easily concealed, carried off, or counterfeited 
than bullion, merchants have frequent cause to 
complain, that the convenience of this sort of 
cash is not without its alloy of evil ; and we 
find that in the use of language there is so much 
room for deceit and mistake, that though it does 
not render it useless, it is much to be wished 
some remedy could be contrived. 

Men are so apt to use the same words in 
different senses, and call the same thing by 
different names, that oftentimes they cannot 
understand others, or be themselves under- 
stood. If one calls that thing black which ano- 
ther calls green, or that prodigality which ano- 
ther calls generosity, they mistake each other's 
meaning, and can never agree till they explain 
the words. It is to this that we owe so much 
wrangling in discourse, and so many volumes of 
controversy on almost every part of literature. 
I have known a dispute carried on with great 
warmth, and when the disputants have come to 
explain what each meant, it has been discovered 
they were both of a side : like the men in the 
play, who met and fought first, and, after each 
had been heartily beaten, found themselves to be 
friends. What should we say, if this practice 
of calling things by a wrong name was to obtain 
among tradesmen ? If you was to send to your 
habei'dasher for a hat, j'ou might receive a pair 
of stockings ; or instead of a cordial julep from 
your apothecary, be furnished with a cathartic 
or a clyster. 

It would be needless to insist on the inconve- 
niences arising from the misuse or misappre- 
hension of terms in all verbal combats ; whether 
they be fought on the spot by word of mouth, 
or (like a game of chess) maintained, even though 
lands and seas interpose, by the assistance of the 
press. In our ordinary conversation it is noto- 
rious, that no less confusion has arisen from the 
wrong application or perversion of the original 
and most natural import of words. I remember, 
when I commenced author I published a little 
pamphlet, which I flattered myself had some 
merit, though I must confess it did not sell. 
Conscious of my growing fame, I resolved to 
send the first fruits of it to an uncle in the 
cotintry, that my relations might judge of the 
great honour I was likely to prove to the family : 
but how was I mortified, when the good man 
sent me word, " that he was sorry to find I had 
ruined myself, and had wrote a book ; for the 
parson of the parish had assured him, that au- 
thors were never worth a farthing, and always 
died in a gaol." Notwithstanding this remoU". 
strance, I have still persisted in my ruin, which 
Aa 



178 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[N>. 105. 



at i>resent I cannot say is quite completed, as I 
can make two meals a day, have yet a coat to my 
back, with a clean shirt for Sundays at least, 
and am lodged somewhat below a garret. How- 
ever, this prediction of my uncle has often led me 
to consider, in how many senses, different from 
its general acceptation, the word ruined is fre- 
quently made use of. When we hear this word 
applied to another, we should naturally imagine, 
the person is reduced to a state worse than lie 
was in before, ind so low that it is scarce ])os- 
sibleforhim to rise again : but we shall often 
find, instead of his being undone, that he has 
rather met with some extvaordinai'y good for- 
tune ; and that those who pronounce him rumer/, 
either mean you should understand it in some 
other light, or else call him undone, because he 
differs from them in his w^ay of life, or because 
they wish him to be in that situation. I need 
not point out the extreme cruelty, as well as in- 
justice, in the misapplication of this term ; as it 
may literally ruin a man by destroying his chai*- 
acter : according to the old English proverb, 
" give a dog an ill name, and hang him." 

Most people are, indeed, so entirely taken up 
with their own narrow views, that, like the 
jaundiced eye, every thing appears to' them of 
the same colour. From this selfish prejudice 
they are led to make a wi'ong judgment of the 
motives and actions of others : and it is no won- 
dei', that they should see ruin staring every man 
in the face, who happens not to think as they 
do : I shall, therefore, here set down a catalogue 
of some of my own acquaintance, whom the 
charity and good nature of the world have not 
scrupled to pronounce absolutely ruined. 

A young clergyman of Cambridge might have 
had a good college-living in about thirty years 
time, or have been head of the house ; but he 
chose to quit his fellowship for a small cure in 
town, with a view of recommending himself by 
his preaching Ruined. 

A fellow of another college, in the same uni- 
versity, refused to quit his books and his retire- 
ment, to live as chaplain with a smoking, drink- 
ing, swearing, fox-hunting country squire, who 
would have provided for him. . . . Rtiined. 

Dr. Classic, a young physician from Oxford, 
might have had more practice than Radcliffe or 
Mead ; but having studied Aristotle's Poetics, 
and read the Greek tragedies, as well as Galen 
and Hippocrates, he was tempted to write a 
play, which was universally applauded, and the 
author was Ruined. 

A student of the Temple might have made 
sure of a judge's robes or the chancellor's seals ; 
but being tired of sauntering in Westminster- 
hall without even getting half a guinea for a mo- 
tion, he has accepted of a commission in one of 
the new- raised regiments, and is . . Ruined. 

A younger brother of a good family threw 
himself away upon an obscure widow witit a 



jointure of £500 per annum, by whi:;h he is 

Ruined. 

Another, a man of fortune, fell in love with, 
and married a genteel girl without a farthing ; 
and though she makes him an excellent wife, he 
is universally allowed to have Ruined himself. 
Before I conclude, I cannot but take notice of 
the strange sense in which a friend of mine once 
heard this word used in company by a girl of 
the town. The young creature, being all life 
and spirits, engrossed all the conversation to her- 
self; and herself indeed was the subject of all 
the conversation : but what most surprised him 
was the manner in which she used this word 
Ruined ,- which occurred frequently in her dis- 
course, though never intended by her to convey 
the meaning generally affixed to it. It served 
her sometimes as an era to determine the date 
of every occurrence — " she bought such a gown, 
just after she was ruined — the first time she saw 
Garrick in Rangei*, she was in doubt whether 
it was before or after she was riimed." — Having 
occasion to mention a young gentleman, she 
burst into raptures " O, he is a dear crea- 
ture ! — He it was that ruined me — O, he is a 
dear soul ; — he carried me to an inn ten miles 
from my father's house in the country, where 
he ruined me. — If he had not ruined me, I should 
have been as miserable and as moping as my 
sisters. But the dear soul was forced to go 
abroad upon his travels, and i was obliged to 
come upon the town, three weeks after I was 
ruined — no, not so much as three weeks after I 
was ruined — yes, it was full three weeks after I 
was ruined." 



k'%-V^V.»'V«'« 



No. 105.] Thursday, Jan. 29, 1756. 



G audit cquis, canilnisqiu, ct aprlci gramsnc catnpi. 

HOR. 

To spring a covey, or unearth a fox/ 
In reverend sportsmen is right orthodox. 

My cousin Village, from whom I had not heard 
for some time, has lately sent me an account of 
a Country Parson ; which I dare say will prove 
entertaining to my town readers, who can have 
no other idea of our clergy, than what they have 
collected from the spruce and genteel figures, 
which they have been used to contemplate here, 
in doctors' scarfs, pudding-sleeves, starched 
bands, and feather-top grizzles. It will be found 
from my cousin's description, that these reverend 
ensigns of orthodoxy are not so necessary to be 
displayed among rustics ; and that, when they 
are out of the pulpit or surplice, the good pastors 
may, without censure, put on the manners as 
well as dress of a groom or whipper-in. 



No. 105. J 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



179 



Doncasler, Jan. 14, 1756. 
Dear Cousin, 

I am just arrived here, after having paid a 
visit to our old acquaintance Jack Quickset, who 
is now become the Reverend Mr. Quickset, 

Rector of parish in the north-riding of 

(his county, a living worth upwards of three 
hundred pounds per annum. As the ceremo- 
nies of ordination have occasioned no alteration 
in Jack's morals or behaviour, the figure he 
makes in the church is somewhat remarkable : 
but as there are many other incumbents of 
country livings whose clerical characters will 
be found to tally with his, perhaps a slight 
sketch, or, as I may say, rough draught of 
him, with some account of my visit, will not be 
Linen tertalning to your readers. 

Jack, hearing that I was in this part of the 
world, sent me a very hearty letter, informing 
me, that he had been double-japanned (as he 
called it) about a year ago, and was the present 

incumbent of ; where if I would favour 

him with my company, he would give me a cup 
of the best Yorkshire stingo, and would engage 
to show me a noble day's sport, as he was in a 
fine open country with plenty of foxes. I re- 
joiced to hear he was so comfortably settled, and 
set out immediately for his living. When 1 
arrived within the gate, my ears were alai'med 
with such a loud chorus of " No mortals on 
earth are so happy as we," that I began to think 
1 had made a mistake ; till observing its close 
neighbourhood to the church convinced me that 
this could be no other than the parsonage-house. 
On my entrance, my friend (whom I found in 
the midst of a room-full of fox-hunters in boots 

and bob- wigs) got up to welcome me to , and, 

embracing me, gave me the full flavour of his 
stingo by belcliing in my face, as he did me the 
honour of saluting me. He then introduced me 
to his friends ; and placing me at the right hand 
of his own elbow-chair, assured them, that I 
was a very honest cock, and loved a chace of 
five-and-twenty miles an end as well as any of 
them : to preserve the credit of which charac- 
ter, 1 was obliged to comply with an injunction 
to toss off a pint bumper of port, with the foot 
ot the fox dipped and squeezed into it to give a 
zest to the liquor. 

The whole economy of Jack's life is very dif- 
ferent from that of his brethren. Instead of 
having a wife and a house full of children, (the 
most common family of a country clergyman) he 
is single ; unless we credit some idle whispers 
in the parish that he is married to his house- 
keeper. The calm amusements of piquet, chess, 
and back-gammon, have no charms for Jack, 
who sees " his dearest action in the field," and 
boasts, that he has a brace of as good hunters in 
his stable, as ever leg was laid ovei*. Hunting 
and shooting are the only business of his life ; 
fox-hounds and pointers lie about in every par- 



lour ; and he is himself, like Pistol, always in 
boots. The estimation in which he holds his 
friends, is rated according to their excellence as 
sportsmen ; and to be able to make a good shot, or 
hunt a pack of hounds well, are most recom- 
mending qualities. His parishioners often earn 
a shilling and a cup of ale at his house, by com- 
ing to acquaint him, that they have found a 
hare sitting, or a fox in cover. One day, while 
I was alone with my friend, the servant came 
in to tell him, that the clerk wanted to speak 
with him. He was ordered in ; but I could not 
help smiling, when (instead of giving notice of a 
burying, christening, or some other church busi- 
ness, as I expected) I found the honest clerk on- 
ly came to acquaint his reverend superior, that 
there was a covey of partridges, of a dozen brace 
at least, not above three fields fi'om the house. 

Jack's elder brother. Sir Thomas Quickset, 
who gave him the benefice, is lord of the ma- 
nor : so that Jack has full power to beat up the 
game unmolested. He goes out three times a 
week with his brother's hounds, whether Sir 
Thomas hunts or not ; and has besides a depu- 
tation from him as lord of the manoi', consign- 
ing the game to his care, and empowering him 
to take away all guns, nets, and dogs from persons 
not duly qualified. Jack is more proud of this 
office, than many other country clergymen ai'e 
of being in the commission of the peace. Poach- 
ing is in his eye the most heinous ci-ime in the 
two tables ; nor does the care of souls appear to 
him half so important a duty as the preservation 
of the game. 

Sunday, you may suppose, is as dull and te- 
dious to this ordained sportsman, as to any fine 
lady in town : not that he makes the duties of his 
function any fatigue to him, but as this day is 
necessarily a day of rest from the toils of shoot- 
ing and the chase. It happened, that the first 
Sunday after I was with him he engaged to take 
care of a church, in the absence of a neighbour- 
ing clergyman, which was about twenty miles 
off". He asked me to accompany him, and the 
more to encourage me, he assured me, that we 
should ride over as fine a champaign open coun- 
try as any in the north. Accordingly I was 
roused by him in the morning before day-break 
by a loud hollowing of " Hark to Merriman," 
and the repeated smacks of his half-hunter ; 
and after we had fortified our stomachs with 
several slices of hung beef and a horn or two of 
stingo, we sallied forth. Jack was mounted 
upon a hunter, which he assured me was never 
yet thrown out : and as we rode along, he could 
not help lamenting, that so fine a morning 
should be thrown away upon a Sunday ; at the 
same time remarking, that the dogs might run 
breast high. 

Though we made the best of our way over 
hedge and ditch, and took every thing, we were 
I'ften delayed by trying if wc could prick a hare, 



180 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 106. 



or by leaving the road to examine a piece of 
cover ; and he frequently made me stop, while 
he pointed out the particular course that Rey- 
nard took, or the spot where he had earthed. 
At length we arrived on full gallop at the 
church, where we found the congregation wait- 
ing for us : hut as Jack had nothing to do but to 
alight, pull his band out of the sermon case, 
give his brown scratch bob a shake, and clap on 
the surplice, he was presently equipped for the 
service. In short, he behaved himself both in 
the desk and pulpit to the entire satisfaction of 
all the parish as well as the squire of it ; w^ho 
after thanking Jack for his excellent discourse, 
very cordially took us home to dinner with him. 

I shall not trouble you with an account of our 
entertainment at the squire's ; who, being him- 
self as keen a sportsman as ever followed a pack 
of dogs, was hugely delighted with Jack's con- 
versation. Church and king, and another par- 
ticular toast, (in compliment, I suppose, to my 
friend's clerical character) were the first drank 
after dinner; but these were directly followed 
by a pint bumper to horses sound, dogs hearty, 
earths stopt, and foxes plenty. When we had 
run over again Avith great joy and vociferation, 
as many chases as the time would permit, the 
bell called us to evening prayers : after which, 
though the squire would fain have had us stay 
and take a hunt with him, we mounted our 
horses at the church door, and rode home in the 
dark ; because Jack had engaged to meet several 
of his brother-sportsmen, who were to lie all 
night at his own house to be in readiness to 
make up for the loss of Sunday, by going out a 
cock shooting very early next morning, 

I must leave it to you, cousin, to make what 
reflections you please on this character ; only 
observing, that the country can furnish many 
instances of these ordained sportsmen, whose 
thoughts are more taken up with the stable or 
the dog-kennel than the church : and, indeed, 
it will be found, that our friend Jack and all of 
his stamp are regarded by their parishioners, 
not as parsons of the parish, but rather as 
squires in orders. 

T. I am, dear cousin, yours, &c. 



No. 106.] Thursday, Feb. 5, 1756. 



-Non hcec solcnnla nobis 



Vana supcrstilio, vcterwnvc ignara dcorutn, 

Imposuit. S(cvis, hospcs Trqjanc, paiclis 

Scrvaii facimiis. \\\u\ 

These solemn rites nor superstition vain, 
Nor fears from blinder ignorance ordain : 
Sav'd from the shock, from dangers yet unknown, 
His mercy wo implore wliose power wc own. 



It is not easy for th 



lind of man to recovn 



itself from any extraordinary panic, which has 
once seized it : for which reason wc cannot be 
surprised, that many well-meaning people, who 
have not yet shaken off the apprehensions occa- 
sioned by the late dreadful earthquakes, should 
be led to conjui'e up new teri-ors, and alarm 
themselves with imaginary dangers. Their 
fears interpret every common incident, and 
even the change of weather, as signs of ap- 
proaching destruction : if the day be calm and 
serene, such (they say) is the usual forerunner 
of a shock ; or, if the night prove tempestuous, 
they can hardly persuade themselves, that it is 
only the wind which rocks their houses. With 
this propensity to entertain any unreasonable 
dread about future events, it is no wonder, that 
weak minds should be worked upon by little 
dabblers in philosophy, \\'ho, having gleaned a 
few barren scraps from the magazines, presume 
even to foi'etell the dissolution of the world by 
the comet, which is expected to appear in 1758. 
Swift, in his Voyage to Laputa, has a passage 
so very apposite to these idle pretenders to 
science, that I shall beg leave to transcribe it. 

"These people," says he, "are under conti- 
nual disquietudes, never enjoying a minute's 
peace of mind : and their disturbances proceed 
from causes, which very little affect the rest of 
mortals. Their apprehensions arise from seve- 
ral changes they dread in the celestial bodies. 
For instance, that the earth by the continual 
approaches of the sun towards it, must in course 
of time be absorbed, or swallowed up. That 
the face of the sun will by degrees be encrusted 
with its own effluvia, and give no more light to 
the world. That the earth very narrowly es- 
caped a brush from the last comet, which would 
have infallibly i-educed it to ashes ; and that 
the next, which they have calculated for one 
and-thirty years hence, will probably destroy 
us. For, if in its perihelion it should approach 
within a certain degree of the sun, (as by their 
calculations they have reason to dread) it will 
receive a degree of heat ten thousand times 
more intense, than that of red-hot glowing iron ; 
and in its absence from the sun, carry a blazing 
tail ten hundred thousand and fourteen miles 
long : through which if the earth should pass at 
the distance of one hundred thousand miles from 
the nvclfus, or main body of the comet, it must 
in its passage be set on fire and reduced to ashes. 
That the sun. daily spending its rays without 
any nutriment to supply them, will at last be 
wholly consumed and annihilated ; which must 
be attended with the destruction of this earth, 
and of all the planets tliat receive their light 
from it. 

" They arc so perpetually alarmed with the 
apprehensions of these and the like impending 
dangers, that they can neither sleep quietly iu 
their beds, nor have any relish for the common 
pleasures or amusements of lite. When they 



No. 106.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



181 



meet an acquaintance in the morning, the first 
question is about the sun's health, how he look- 
ed at his setting and rising, and what hopes 
they have to avoid the stroke of an approaching 
comet. This conversation they are apt to run 
into with the same temper, that boys discover 
to hear terrible stories of spirits and hobgoblins, 
which they greedily listen to, and dare not go to 
bed for fear." 

Let us, however, banish from our thoughts all 
such vain notions, and let us fortify our minds 
with a true sense of religion, which will teach 
us to rely on the protection of that providence, 
which has hitherto preserved us. It is with 
great pleasure that I remark the unanimous 
concurrence of almost all ranks of people in al- 
lowing the propriety of the present solemn fast, 
as a necessary act of humiliation, to avert the 
wrath and vengeance of heaven, and to call 
down its mercies upon us. It is true, indeed, 
that no persons do more prejudice to the cause 
of religion than they who cloud its genuine 
cheerfulness with the gloom of supei'stition, and 
are apt to consider every common accident that 
befalls U3, as a judgment. They clothe religion 
in the most terrifying habit, and, (as it were) 
dress it up in all the horrors of the inquisition. 
These people are much to be pitied ; and it is to 
bfc wished, that their mistaken piety could be 
better regulated. But there is another set of men 
of a different turn, more numerous, and much 
more dangerous to the community, who treat 
every act of religion as a jest, and hold its most 
sacred ordinances in contempt. Set forms and 
ceremonies, though they have no essential 
virtue in themselves, are yet indispensably re- 
quisite to keep alive in us a quick sense of 
our duty. It must be allowed indeed, that if 
a man could constantly employ his mind in holy 
meditations, exercise the virtues, and believe 
the mysteries of our religion, he would be a 
true christian, though he never complied with 
any outward forms, or so much as repeated a 
single prayer. But it is manifest from experi- 
ence, that those who neglect the ordinances, ne- 
glect also the duties of a christian ; and the least 
reflection on the human mind will convince us, 
tiiat some external rites are necessary to settle 
the wandering ideas, and to fix the attention on 
its proper object. The fervent repetition of a 
prayer inspires us with love and gratitude to- 
wards the Deity, and kindles the spark of devo- 
tion within us : and it is easy to conceive, that, 
if the celebration of public worship was neglect- 
ed among us only for one year, it would be a 
more fatal blow to religion, than all the weak 
attacks of infidels and free-thinkers. 

But though forms may be said to compose the 
body, a good life is the soul of religion, without 
which the rest is but a dead mass. The most 
rigid compliance with every ordinance of the 
church, if it has no influence on our conduct, is 



rather a solemn mockery, than an atonement 
for our offences : as they, who receive the bread 
and wine without a firm resolution to lead a 
new life, are said to eat and drink their own 
damnation. Wherefore, a strict observance of 
this or that particular day is not a sufficient dis- 
charge of our duty, except it serve to rouse us 
from the lethargy of sin, to awaken in us a de- 
sire of becoming worthy the protection of the 
Almighty, by animating our faith, amending 
our lives, and working in us a repentance for 
our transgressions. Thus the Lord's day is not 
merely s«t apart for devotion, with an unlimited 
license to wickedness all the rest of the week ; 
but our being particulax'ly exercised in acts of 
piety for one day is calculated to strengthen our 
virtue, and to give a tincture of religion to our 
whole conduct through the other six. 

On the present solemn occasion, 1 doubt not 
but every persuasive, tending to make this tem- 
porary fast a lasting benefit, will be urged by the 
clergy : I shall therefore content myself with 
touching on some laxities in the usual manner 
of keeping a fast, which, though they are not of 
sufficient dignity to be taken notice of from the 
pulpit, should yet be pointed out, as the viola- 
tion of the fast in these particulars is almost 
universal. 

The very name of a fast implies a day of ab- 
stinence, of mortification and self-denial : which 
has always been enjoined as a necessary means 
of subduing irregular desires, and fitting us for 
holy meditation. For this reason, in former 
days, when people of quality rose earlier than 
even mechanics now open their shops, when the 
court itself dined at eleven, that meal was defer- 
ed till four o'clock, in compliance with this re- 
ligious exercise, which was in those times a 
real abstinence, a true piece of mortification and 
self-denial. But if the observance of a fast con- 
sists in not dining till four o'clock, our persons 
of fashion may be said to fast every day of their 
lives. In truth, the several hours of the day are 
adapted to such very difi'erent employments to 
what they were formerly, that our four o'clock 
stands in the place of their eleven : and nothing 
can be more absurd (to use no harsher term) 
than to adhere to the form in the performance 
of a religious act, when, by the alteration of cir- 
cumstances, that form flatly contradicts the very 
meaning of its original institution. I would 
also ask those I'igid devotees, who observe this 
day in all the strictness of the letter, and would 
be shocked at the sight of a leg of mutton or beef 
steak on their tables, whether the dining upon 
salt or other fish may not be considered rather 
as feasting than fasting, if (as is often the case) 
it should happen to be a dish they are remarka- 
bly fond of. All these methods of keeping a fast 
without abstinence, mortification, or self-denial, 
are mere quibbles to evade the performance of 
our duty, and entirely frustrate the design of 



182 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 107. 



appointing this solemnity. There is something 
of this nature very commonly practised in 
France ; where there are many families, who 
keep the whole Lent with great strictness, but 
the last night of it invite a great deal of com- 
pany to supper. The moment the clock strikes 
twelve, a msigniticent entertainment, consisting 
of all sorts of rich fare, is served up, and these 
most christian debauchees sit down to indulge in 
luxury, without sinning against the canon. 

I cannot conclude without an earnest wish, 
that the observation of the present fast may 
awaken in us a serious attention to our duty 
hereafter ; that we may not seem to have barely 
complied with a stated form, or to have been af- 
fected with the short-lived piety of a single day. 
As to those who require constantly to be fright- 
ened into their duty, I will for once venture to 
commence prophet : and let them be assured, 
that my predictions will infallibly come to pass. 
There is a danger, more certain than an earth- 
quake or a comet, Avhich will inevitably over- 
whelm us ; a danger from which we cannot 
possibly guard ourselves, and which perhaps is 
even now at our doors. This danger I cannot 
better set forth, than in the alarming words of 
a celebrated French preacher. " I know a man 
(and I will point him out presently) who is now 
in this chui-ch : a man, in perfect health ; and a 
man in the flower of his age : and yet this man, 
perhaps before next Sunday, perhaps by to-mor- 
row, will be in his grave. This man, my dear 
brethren, is myself who speaks to you, it is you 
Avho hear me.' O. 



No 107. Thursday, January la, 1756. 



Ccdunt grammafici, vincuntur rhetores. — Juv. 

Full in the midst of Euclid dip at once, 

And petrify a genius to a dunce. Pope. 

TO MR. TOWN. 

College, Cambridge, Jan. SO, 1766. 

Sir, 
I HAVE just now, with near a hundred more, 
taken the first degree, which this university 
confers on her sons ; and begin to consider 
within myself, in what manner we have spent 
our time for these four years past, and Avhat 
profit we are likely to receive liereafter from 
our academical studies. But upon retrospection 
I find that, instead of having laid up a store of 
learning, which might have been of service to 
us iu our future connexions and intercourse 
with mankind, we have been confounding our 
heads with a miscellaneous heap of nonsense, 
which most of us, I am certain, are endeavour- 
ing to unlearn as fast as possibly we can : jn- 
stcad of having acquired such a share of common 



sense, as might have been of service to ourselves 
and acquaintance, we must entirely sell off our 
old stock, and begin the world of literature anew. 
This reflection cannot be very pleasing to those, 
who, I must say, have squandered away so very 
precious a time of life ; a time of life, when, 
though judgment perhaps is not come to matu- 
rity, yet imagination and invention, those noble 
offsprings of a promising mind, are in the very 
flower and bloom of perfection. 

This seat of learning, for it undoubtedly de- 
serves that name, has drawn and kept us toge- 
ther for some years : our manners, conversation, 
and studies bear a great similitude ; but now 
either chance or choice is going to disperse us 
over the whole kingdom ; and our places of 
abode will scarce be more widely different, than 
our schemes of life. Notwithstanding this, the 
same plan of study has been imposed on all : 
whether agreeable or contrary to the bent of 
inclination, has never been i-egarded. Mathe- 
matics is the standard, to which all merit is 
referred; and all other excellencies, without 
these, are quite overlooked and neglected ; the 
solid learning of Greece and Rome is a trifling 
acquisition ; and much more so, every polite 
accomplishment : in short, if you rvill not get 
all Euclid and his diagrams by heart, and pore 
over Saimderson till you are as blind as himself, 
they will say of you, as in the motto to one of 
your late papers, aclum, est I ilicet ! peristi ! 
' tis all over with you ! you are ruined ! you 
are ruined !' Not that 1 would depreciate this 
kind of learning ; it is certainly a most noble 
science, and reflects the greatest honour on hu- 
man wit and invention : all that I complain of 
is the unreasonable stress that is laid upon it ; 
nay, even the most abstruse parts of it : whicli 
is still more absurd, as there are so very few 
heads able to perceive and retain the nice chain 
of reasoning and deduction, which must neces- 
sarily be made use of : and as a small number 
of mathematical geniuses would be sufficient for 
the service of his majesty's dominions. 

I take it for granted, that your sagacity has 
by this time discovered, that you have been ad- 
dressed by a young man, whose too overween- 
ing conceit of himself has perhaps induced him 
to imagine, that the university has not suffi- 
ciently rewarded his deserts : if so, you are not 
deceived. But though this disappointment may 
at present sit a little uneasy upon me, yet 1 
think I can foresee, that it will be the most for 
tunate mortification, that could possibly h.ivfi 
befallen me. For in the first place, it has suffi- 
ciently abated that upstart pride, which most 
young men are apt to take in their own abilities j 
than which nothing can be more irksome to all 
their acquaintance, era greater impediment to 
their own real improvement. A pert scholar, 
whenever he enters a room of t^ompany, imme- 
diately Hosumes a superiority in discourse, and 



No. 107.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



T Ort 

x30 



thinks himself obliged to coiTect all improprie- 
ties in thought or expression. You must ' speak 
by the card,' as Hamlet says, or expect the cen- 
sure of this supei'ficial coxcomb. If, according 
to the common form of speech, you say, that 
there is either heat in the fire, or coldness in ice, 
he will inform you, that you deliver yourself 
very inaccurately, as Mr. Locke has fully de- 
monstrated ; he will tell you, you cannot prove, 
two and two make four, or that you are alive 
yourself. These, and a thousand other obser- 
vations equally impertinent, he is continually 
nmkingj to the no small uneasiness and per- 
plexity of the ladies and honest country gen- 
tlemen. 

What is still a gi-eater misfortune, is, that a 
man of this cast is never likely to know any 
better : for, having raked together a few meta- 
physical distinctions and sholastic refinements, 
he thinks he has laid up a sufficient fund of 
knowledge for his whole life : he despises all 
common sense (which is the best sense) through 
an ambition of appearing particular : and as for 
the advice or opinion of others, those he thinks 
himself indispensably bound to disregard ; in- 
asmuch as such submission implies some infe- 
riority, which he ^vould by no means bethought 
to labour under. Such a disposition as this I 
take to be the sure and infallible token of con- 
firmed ignorance : a melancholy instance of the 
depravity of hunaan nature, that the less we 
know, the more we presume ; and the fewer 
advances we have made towards true knowledge, 
the less occasion we think we have of any fur- 
ther improvement. 

In the second place. If I may be allowed to 
judge of what I cannot possibly have expe- 
rienced, I take it to be the greatest benefit to a 
young person to meet with early disappoint- 
ments in life : for sooner or later every one must 
have his share of them ; and the sooner we meet 
with some of them the better. By this means 
the mind is easily made familiar witli crosses 
and vexations, and is not thrown off its balance 
by every thwarting and wayward accident ; by 
this means we submit to ills and troubles, as the 
necessary attendants on mankind : as on a rainy 
day we make om-selves quiet and contented, but 
hope for sunshine on the morrow. And, indeed, 
there seems to be a strong analogy between the 
inclemency of the weather attacking our bodies, 
and the storms and afflictions which batter our 
minds. The rain will beat and the wind will 
roar, let us use our utmost endeavours to the con- 
trary ; but by inuring our persons to the vicissi- 
tudes of the seasons, and using other proper me- 
thods, we shall feel no very sensible incon- 
venience from them. In like manner, all our 
skill and art cannot prevent or elude the rubs 
and disasters, to which we are liable ; but if by 
degrees, and early in life, we are hardened and 
accustomed to them and if by the help of reason 



and sound philosophy we arm and fortify our- 
selves against them, they may still perhaps reach 
us, but their shocks will be quite weak and lan- 
guid : and we may say of the darts of Fortune, 
as Virgil says of Priam, when he hurled a jaA-e 
lin at PjTrhus, 

Telum imbelle sine icfu 

Conjecit. 

Short of its aim, and impotent to wound. 
The feeble shaft falls hurtless to the ground. 

Thus you see, Mr. Town, that out of a seem- 
ing evU I have discovered a real good : and I am 
certain, if this method of reasoning could be 
made universal, we should find much fewer 
murmurers against the present distribution and 
order of things. 

I am, Sir, yours, &c. 
B. A. 

Mr. Town, 
I am so great an admirer of the fair sex, that 
I never let a tittle of their vendible writings es- 
cape me. I bought this yeai* the Lady's Diary, 
merely because it was advertised as the Woman's 
Almanack, which I construed the Almanack 
composed by a woman : but I find I have been 
mistaken in my supposition. It is not the work 
of a female. The christian name of the author, 
I have reason to believe, is Marmaduke ; unless 
I misunderstand a most curious copy of verses, 
describing a most superb entertainment, of fish, 
flesh, pies and tarts, exhibited upon New Year's 
day, 1755. His siu'name remains as great an 
enigma as any in his book. His coadjutors, con- 
tributors, or assistants, are P.Icssieurs Walter 
Trott, Timothy Nabb, Patrick Ocavannah, John 
Honey, Henry Season, and others. I honour 
these gentlemen and their works : but I own 
my chief delight is in reading over the riddles 
and unriddles, the questions and the answers of 
Miss Sally West, Caelia, Miss Nancy Evelyn, 
Miss E. S. Miss Atkinson, Enira, and other 
choice little feminine spirits of the age. Riddles 
are so becoming, and appear so pretty, when 
dandled about by ladies, that they may be com- 
pared to soft, smooth, painted, waxen babies, 
dressed up in a pi'oper manner for misses to play 
with, from eighteen to fourscore. But above all, 
I must take this opportunity of congratulating 
dear Miss Fanny Harris, who, I find, " has 
given an elegant solution to a prize problem by 
a fluxionary calculus founded on the properties 
of tangents," and by that means has run away 
with no less than twelve diaries for this impor- 
tant year 1756. As this young lady is justly 
called ' the honour of her sex," and deals entire- 
ly in the properties of tangents, I fear she will 
never descend so low as nddleme riddlemeree ; 
and therefore I most humbly offer, by the vehi- 
cle of your paper, Mr. Town, a small riddle, in- 
vented with much pains and thought by myself, 



184 



THE CONNOISSEU R. 



[iVo. 108. 



to the solution of those three ingenioTis spinsters, 
Miss Polly Walker, Miss Grace Tetlow, and 
Miss Ann Rickaby, to appear in the Lady's 
Diary of 1757, and to i*eceive upon appearance, 
as a premium, one complete set of the Connois- 
seur in pocket volumes, to be the property of one 
or more of these three ladies, who shall explain 
my uEnigma. 

Fire and water mixed together, 
Add to til is some salt and tin ; 

Tell me, ladies, tell me whether 
In this mixture there is sin ? 

The solution itself, if not truly explained by 
the Three Graces, to whom I now address it, 
shall appear, by your permission, in the first Con- 
noisseui* after next NeAv Year's day. 

I am. Sir, your humble Servant, 
Michael Krawbridge. 



No. 108.] Thursday, Feb. 19, 1756. 



Ter centum tonat ore Deos, Erabumque, Cheosque, 
Tergeminamque Hecaten, tria Virginis ora Diance. 

Virgil. 

Dire execrations split your ears asunder, 

Death ! and Damnation ! Furies ! Blood ! and Thunder ! 

As there are some vices which the vulgar have 
presumed to copy from the great, so there are 
others which the great have condescended to bor- 
row from the vulgar. Among these I cannot but 
set down the shocking practice of cursing and 
swearing ; a practice, which (to say nothing at 
present of its impiety and profaneness) is Ioav 
and indelicate, and places the man of quality on 
the same level with the chairman at his door. 
A gentleman would forfeit all pretensions to 
that title, who should choose to embellish his 
discourse with the oratory of Billingsgate, and 
converse in the style of an oj^ster- -woman : but 
it is accounted no disgrace to him, to use the 
same coarse expressions of cursing and swear- 
ing with the meanest of the mob. For my own 
part, I cannot see the difference between a JRy 
Gad or a Gad deni-me, minced and softened by 
a genteel pronunciation from well-bred lips, 
and the same expression bluntly bolted out 
from the broad mouth of a porter or hackney- 
coachman. 

I shall purposely wave making any reflec- 
tions on the impiety of this practice, as I am 
satisfied they would have but little weight either 
with the beaumnnde or the canaille. The swearer 
of either station devotes himself piece-meal, as 
it were, to destruction ; pours out anathemas 
against his eyes, his heart, his soul, and every 
part of his body ; nor does he scruple to extend 
the same good wishes to the limbs and joints of 
his friends and acquaintance. This they both 



do with the same fearless unconcern ; but with 
tliis only difference, that the gentleman-swearer 
damns himself and others with the greatest 
civility and good-breeding imaginable. 

3Iy predecessor, the Tatlei*, gives us an ac- 
count of a certain humorist, who got together 
a party of noted swearers to dinner with him, 
and ordered their discourse to be taken down in 
short-hand ; which being afterwards repeated 
to them, they were extremely startled and sur- 
prised at their own common talk. A dialogue 
of this nature would be no improper supplement 
to Swift's Polite Conversation ; though, indeed, 
it would appear too shocking to be set down in 
print. But I cannot help wishing, that it were 
possible to draw out a catalogue of the fashion- 
able oaths and curses in present use at Arthur's 
or any other polite assembly : by which means 
the company themselves would be led to ima- 
gine, that their conversation had been carried on 
between the lowest of the mob ; and they would 
blush to find, that they had gleaned their choic- 
est phrases from lanes and alleys, and enriched 
their discourse with the elegant dialect of Wap- 
ping and Broad St. Giles's. 

The legislature has, indeed, provided against 
this offence, by affixing aponalty on every delin- 
quent according to his station : but this law, 
like those made against gaming, is of no effect ; 
while the genteeler sort of swearers pour forth 
the same execrations at the hazard table or in 
the tennis-court, which the more ordinary 
gamesters repeat, with the same impunity, over 
the shuffle-board or in the skittle-alley. Indeed, 
were this law to be rigorously put into execu- 
tion, there would appear to be little or no pro- 
portion in the punishment ; since the gentleman 
would escape by depositing his crown ; while 
the poor wretch, who cannot raise a shilling, 
must be clapped in the stocks, or sent to Bride- 
well. But as the offence is exactly the same, I 
would also have no distinction made in the 
treatment of the offenders : and it would be a 
most ridiculous but a due mortification to a man 
of quality, to be obliged to thrust his leg through 
the same stocks with a carman or a coal-heaver ; 
since he first degraded himself, and qualified 
himself for their company, by talking in the 
same mean dialect. 

I am aware, that it will be pleaded in excuse 
for this practice, that oaths and curses are in- 
tended only as mere expletives, which serve to 
round a period, and give a grace and spirit to 
conversation. But there are still some old-fa- 
shioned creatures, who adhere to their common 
acceptation, and cannot help thinking it a very 
serious matter, that a man should devote his 
body to the devil, or call down damnation on 
his soul. Nay, the swearer himself, like the 
old man in the fable calling upon death, would 
bo exceeding loath to be taken at his word ; and, 
Avhile he wishes destruction to every part of his 



No. 109.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



185 



body, would be highly concerned to have a limb 
rot away, his nose fall off, or an eye drop out 
of the socket. It would, therefore, be advis- 
able to substitute some other terms equally un- 
meaning, and at the same time remote from the 
vulgar cursing and swearing. 

It is recorded to the honour of the famous 
Dean Stanhope, that in his younger days, when 
he was chaplain to a regiment, he reclaimed 
the officers, who were much addicted to this 
vulgar practice, by the following method of re- 
proof. One evening as they were all in com- 
pany together, after they had been very eloquent 
in this kind of rhetoric, so natural to the gen- 
tlemen of the army, the worthy dean took occa- 
sion to tell a story in turn ; in which he fre- 
quently repeated the words bottle and glass, in- 
stead of the usual expletives of God, devil, and 
damn, which he did not think quite so becoming 
for one of his cloth to make free with. I would 
recommend it to our people of fashion to make 
use of the like innocent phrases, whenever they 
are obliged to have recourse to these substitutes 
for thought and expression. " Bottle and glass," 
might be introduced with great energy in the 
table-talk at the King's Arms or St. Alban's 
taverns. The gamester might be indulged, 
without offence, in swearing by the "knave of 
clubs," or the "curse of Scotland;" or he 
might, with some propriety, retain the old exe- 
cration of " the deuce take it." The beau 
should be allowed " to swear by his gracious 
self, which is the god of his idolatry:" and the 
common expletives should consist only of " upon 
my word," and "upon my honour;" which 
terms, whatever sense they might formerly 
bear, are at present understood only as words of 
course without meaning. O. 



No. 109.] Thursday, Feb. 26, 1756. 



Intcrdutn vulgus rectum videt j est, ubi, peccat. 



What ev'ry body says, is often true ; 
But very often 'tis a falsehood too. 

The world is indebted to that ingenious inquir- 
er after truth, the famous Sir Thomas Brown, 
for an excellent treatise, in which he has refuted 
several idle and ridiculous opinions, that prevail- 
ed in liis time ; to which work he has very pro- 
perly given the title of Vulgar Errors. Among 
others, of no less importance, he has taken great 
pains to explode the common notion that a witch 
can make a voyage to the East Indies in an 
egg-shell, or take a journey of two or three hun- 
dred miles across the country on a broom-stick : 
an assertion maintained by that wise monarch. 
King James the First, who even condescended 
to commence author in support of it. He has 



also refuted the generally received opinion, that 
the devil is black, has horns upon his head, 
wears a long curling tail, and a cloven stump ; 
nay, has even denied, that wheresoever he goes, 
he always leaves a smell of brimstone behind 
him ; and has no less seriously endeavoured to 
show the absurdity of the supposition, that Adam 
and Eve were born into the world without na- 
vels. But all these mistaken notions, though 
they might possibly obtain belief in former times 
of superstition and ignorance, could never have 
been countenanced in this more enlightened age. 
So far from acknowledging the power of witch- 
craft, we even doubt of the existence of the witch 
of Endor : that illustrious personage the devil 
is only looked upon as a mere bugbear : and the 
lowest mechanics have been taught at the Robin 
Hood Society, that the whole account of our 
first parents is nothing but a fiction and an old 
woman's story. 

Since the days of Sir Thomas Brown, such 
strange revolutions have happened among us, in 
the arts and sciences, in religion, in politics, and 
in common life, that I cannot but think, a work, 
intended as a supplement to the above-mention- 
ed treatise of Vulgar Errors, would be highly 
acceptable to the public ; since it is notorious, 
that many tenets, -which were then thought in- 
disputable truths among all ranks of people, are 
now proved to be erroneous, and are only cre- 
dited by the uninformed vulgar. A work of 
this nature it is my intention shortly to publish : 
in the meantime, I shall content myself with 
laying the following specimen of the performance 
befoi'e my readers. 

The ignorance of the multitude has hitherto 
pronounced it, " to be absolutely impossible that 
a maid can be with child." But it is well known 
to the learned, that in these later times there 
have been many instances of maiden-mothers : 
though, whether they are impregnated by the 
west-wind, like Virgil's mares, or, as it was 
said of Juno, by eating a sallad ; whether they 
bring forth, as Dutch ladies do, Sooterkins ; 
whether they receive by intuition, or the opera- 
tion of the fancy ; or by what other cause, has 
not been ascertained. Several instances have 
been recorded, among the Roman Catholics, of 
nuns and lady abbesses, who have miraculously 
proved with child : and here in England we 
have more than once heard of the pregnancy of 
a maid of honour. I myself know a lady, al- 
most approaching to the verge of an old maid, 
who was very much bloated and puffed up with 
the wind-colic : for relief of which she went 
into the country for a month, and was unex- 
pectedly seized with the pangs of child-birth. I 
have been told of another, a virgin of the most 
unspotted character, who very unaccountably fell 
into labour, just as they were going to tap her 
for the dropsy. An eminent man-midwife of 
mv acquaintance was in the beginning of his 
Bb 



186 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 109. 



practice called to a virgin, who, to his gi'eat sur- 
prise, brought forth an embryo, in form and ap- 
pearance exactly resembling a mandrake. This 
he considered as a most wonderful lusns natiirre ; 
and had actually drawn up an account of it 
(with a figure of the monster) to be laid before 
the Royal Society : but in less than a twelve- 
month he delivered the same lady, who still con- 
tinued in a state of virginity, of another false 
conception, like the former; and for many years 
after this prodigy of a virgin had several other 
monstrous and preternatural births of the same 
kind. He further assures me, that he has since 
very frequently met with these phenomena ; 
and that the only diflference between maids and 
married women in this point is, that the former 
do not manifest the signs of pregnancy so fully 
in their waists, nor do they cry out so vehemen- 
tly in their labour pains ; and it is remarkable, 
that they never choose to suckle their children. 

It is vulgarly supposed, that " the events of 
gaming are regulated by blind chance and for- 
tune:" but the wise and polite, that is the 
knowing ones, cannot but smile at the absurdity 
or this notion ; though even the sagacious Hoyle 
and Demoivre themselves, by the nicety of their 
calculations of chances, seem to have adopted 
this ridiculous doctrine. The professors at 
Arthur's, and the experienced adepts in the mys- 
tei'ies of gaming, kindly condescend tc give les- 
sons, at reasonable rates, to those novices, 
who imagine that the events of play, like those 
of war, are uncertain : and so cogent is their 
method of instruction, that they never fail to 
convince their pupils, that success at dice, as 
well as bowls, depends upon a skilful manage- 
ment of the bias, and that the cards are not shuf- 
fled by the blind hand of fortune. 

It is a notion confined wholly to the vulgar, 
that " matrimony brings people together : " but 
it is notorious, that in higher life a marriage is 
the most effectual method to keep them asunder. 
It is impolite for a man and his wife ever to be 
seen together in public; and a person of quality 
had rather enjoy a tete-a-tete with any body's 
wife but his own, in private. Genteel couples 
have separate amusements, pay separate visits, 
keep separate company, lie in separate beds, and 
(like the man and woman in a weather-house) 
are never seen together : nay more, if they ai'e 
very genteel indeed, the lady has her separate 
maintenance. On the contrary, if a man of 
fashion has a tendre for an unmarried lady, they 
reside in the same house, partake of the same 
diversions, and observe every other article of the 
strictest cohabitation. The surest "way of dis- 
solving a connection of this sort is to marry. Sir 
John Brute bluntly declares, that, if he Avas 
married to a hogshead of claret, the thought of 
matrimony would make him hate it. Thus, in 
genei'al, the very names of wife and husband are 
sufficient to destroy all affection ; and it was but 



a day or two ago that I met with a sprightly 
young gentleman much of the same opinion 
with Sir John ; who being reproached for ne- 
glecting his lady for a mistress, and reminded 
that man and wife were one flesh, replied, that 
it %vas very true, and what pleasure could he 
have in touching his own flesh ? Modern wed- 
lock, therefore, may be rather said to divide, than 
unite : at least, if matrimony ever brings folks 
together for a time, it is only to separate them 
more effectually ; as, according to the principles 
of action and re-action, where two bodies are 
drawn together by a violent attraction, they im- 
mediately fly off, and are driven back again from 
each other by the principle of repulsion. 

It may well be called a Vulgar En-or, since 
none but the vulgar think so, that " the sabbath 
is a day of rest." It is, as experience teaches us, 
a day of business with some, of pleasm-e with 
others, but of rest with none. It is true, indeed, 
that a cessation from wordly occupations, toge- 
ther with roast beef and plum-pudding, were 
formerly the characteristics of the sabbath in 
England: but these inactive principles arc now 
entirely out of fashion ; nor do I know any per- 
son, who is strictly debarred from exercising 
his employment on that day, except the sheriff's 
ofiicer. The exact citizen, nicely calculating 
the damages he would sustain, on an average, 
by the loss of a seventh part of his time, de- 
frauds the sabbath of its due rights, as he cheats 
his customers, in the way of trade. As to peo- 
ple of quality, they, I suppose, (duly consider- 
ing how prodigal they are of their lives by ad- 
hering to the polite system) are willing to hus- 
band the little time allotted them, by adding 
" night to day, and Sunday to the week. " 

If old woman was not a term frequently made 
use of by the perverse and impolite multitude, 
I should hardly attempt to prove so clear and 
obvious a proposition as that " there is no STich 
thing in the creation as an old woman." Old 
women are, indeed, mentioned by some few wri- 
ters : but I have always looked upon their ex- 
istence to be as chimerical as that of the Brob- 
dingnags or the Yahoos ; and I do not believe 
that there has been such an animal in nature 
since the flood. In the present distant period we 
are unable to conceive the least idea of such a 
creature, as the same appearance of youth, ♦.he 
same lilies and roses bloom on the foces of the 
whole sex. For a proof of this, if we look round 
at the opera, the playhouse, a lady's rout, or any 
other assembly, we may observe, that all our 
girls, whether of a smaller or of a larger growth, 
assume the same air of gayety and intrigue, and 
wear the same complexions. A limner of great 
business has often declared to mc, that though 
he has had several mothers, and grandmothers, 
and gi'eat grandmothers sit to him, he never yet 
drew the picture of an old woman. Medea is 
said to have renewed the youth and vigour of 



No 110.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR, 



187 



her father ^son by boiling him, with certain 
magic herbs, in a cauldron : but I will not pre- 
sume to say that our ladies are preserved fi'om 
old age by stewing in a copper, or that, according 
to a more modern notion, old women ai e ground 
young again by a mill. This, however, is cer- 
tain ; that youth as well as beauty, is the per- 
petual prerogative of the female sex : and that 
age, though it sits venerably on a man, would 
no more become a lady than a beard. 

In an age so enlightened as the present, when 
we have thrown off all other mean prejudices of 
nature and education, it is no wonder that we 
should discard the gospel : and I am almost in 
doubt, whether I should mention the belief of 
it as a Vulgar Error, since it daily loses its credit 
among us. Wherefore, if I may not be allowed 
to set down the belief in a God, a Saviom-, a fu- 
ture state, the immortality of the soul, &c. &c. 
as prevailing errors, I cannot omit so fair an op- 
portunity of congratulating my contemporaries 
on their having overcome them. Nor can I bet- 
ter conclude this paper, than by a hint to my 
friends, the freethinkers, cautioning them to con- 
sider, whether, if we were made by chance, the 
world was made by chance, and every thing else 
was made by chance, there may not also be a heU 
made by chance. O. 



No. 110.] Thursday, March 4, 1756. 



Contracta melius parva cupidine 
Vectigalia porrigam. 

Virtue shall go scot-free ; our new excise 
From vice and folly shall raise large supplies. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



Every Englishman, who has the good of his 
country at heart, must lament the pei"plexity 
which our ministers labour under, in contriving 
ways and means to raise money for the present 
exigence of affairs. I have with pleasure 
hearkened to the several projects proposed in 
the debates of patriots in our coffee-houses and 
private clubs ; but though I find they are unani- 
mous in allowing the necessity of levying new 
taxes, every one is w^illing to shift off the bur- 
den from himself. 

I was introduced the other night into a set of 
worthy citizens, who very zealously took this 
subject into consideration over their evening 
pipe. One of them, a grave gentleman, pulling 
the Evening Post out of his pocket, and putting 
on his spectacles, read aloud to as the several 
methods already proposed ; to which many 
wise objections were immediately started by the 
company. " What's that ?" says an old don 
(who I afterwards found had a small estate in 



houses) " an additional duty upon bricks, and 
pan- tiles, and plain-tiles ! I suppose they will 
lay a duty upon plain-tile pegs by-and-bye." 
This speech was received with a hearty chuckle 
of applause from the rest of the company ; when 
another took occasion to observe, " that he vei-y 
much approved the scheme for laying a larger 
tax upon cards and dice ;" one of which he 
called the devil's books, and the other his bones. 
The duty upon plate might perhaps have passed 
into a law in this assembly, if it had not been 
vehemently opposed by one member (whom I 
discovered to be a silversmith) in which he was 
seconded by the landlord of the house, who had 
a seat in this meeting, and told us, " that it 
would lie very hard upon publicans, as nobody 
would now drink their porter out of a pewtei 
pot." These and the like arguments induced us 
to set aside all the projects that had been offered 
hitherto, and to consult together in order to find 
new ones in their room ; among which I could 
not but smile at the proposal of an honest 
peruke-maker, Avho advised the levying of a 
poll-tax. upon all that wore their own hair. 
" For," says he, " we have never had good times, 
since wigs were out of fashion. What rare 
days were those in Queen Anne's reign, when 
the nobility and gentry wore large flaxen flows 
of thirty guineas price ! And as you may see 
my Lord Godolphin's monument in Westmin- 
ster-Abbey, a prime minister's wig could not be 
made, I am sure, under fifty guineas, " 

The discourse that passed at this society of 
politicians, has led me to turn my thoughts on 
devising some method that might answer the 
present demands for a supply, Avith the least 
injury to the community. On this account I 
am of opinion, that private vices (according to 
the faA'ourite tenet of Mandeville) may in some 
measure be converted into public benefits, by 
laying a certain tax or duty on the fashionable 
amusements of the gay and polite world. For 
this purpose I have, with great pains and labour, 
contrived a plan, a few heads of which, Avithout 
further preface, I shall (with your leaA^e) sub- 
mit to the consideration of those whom it may 
concern. 

First, then, I would propose, that no persons 
of quality, or others, should be allowed to keep 
any rout, drum, assembly, visiting-day (or what- 
ever other name it may hereafter be called by) 
at vi'hich more than one hundi'ed persons shall be 
found assembled, without paying a certain rate 
for every such rout, drum, &c. The number of 
these meetings, which are held in this town 
(including the city of London and the suburbs 
thereof) I have computed upon an exact calcula- 
tion, to amount annually to eight thousand three 
hundred and upwards ; so that if a duty, at 
only sixpence per head, were to be levied upon 
the company, it would bring in a prodigious 
income to the government; deducting for the 



188 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. HI 



decrease consequent of this tax, as also for those 
which we may expect will be smuggled, or 
carried on clandestinely. And, as gaming is an 
essential diversion at all these meetings, I would 
further advise, that every card-table be entered, 
in the same manner as all wheel-carriages, and 
a proportionable rate fixed on them, according to 
the degree and quality of the owners. Be it 
enacted, moreover, that extraordinary licenses 
shall be taken out for playing at cards on the 
Sabbath-day ; but that these be granted only to 
persons of the highest rank and fashion. 

At the present j uncture of affairs every one 
will agree with me, that if an absolute prohibi- 
tion be impracticable, a heavy duty should be 
laid on the importation of French fashions and 
fopperies into this kingdom. It is therefore but 
I'easonable, that all French cooks, valets de 
chambre, millinei's, mantuamakers, hair-cutters, 
&c. should be at least doubly taxed, as it is 
notorious that they exact from the dupes who 
employ them, more than double the wages or 
price for their labours, that our own ^modest 
countrjnmen would require. This tax, I make 
no doubt, would produce no inconsiderable sum 
for the public use : and as our ladies, though I 
would not suspect that they have French hearts, 
are ambitious of wearing French complexions, 
a further sum might also be raised by fixing a 
liigh duty upon rouge and carmine. 

There are many other particulars in the 
fashionable world which might be turned in the 
same manner to the public good. A tax on kept 
mistresses, for example, who are now become so 
very numerous, that I question not but a duty, 
properly levied on them, would be sufficient to 
maintain all the widows of our soldiers and 
sailors who shall happen to be killed in the ser- 
vice. A heavy duty might also be laid on ail 
Bagnios, French-wine -houses, Covent-garden 
coffee-houses, &c. and since, in spite of laws and 
decencj', these places are suffered to be kept 
open, it is surely equitable that they should pay 
round taxes for the relief of the nation, as well 
as an annual tribute for the connivance of the 
neighbouring justices. To add to this sciieme, 
and to make vice and folly further contribute to 
the public necessity, I would also propose, that 
Messieurs Harris, Derry, and the rest of the 
fraternity of pimps retained as caterers to the 
voluptuous at any tavern or bagnio, should en- 
ter all the hacks in tiieir service at an excise of- 
fice appropriated to this purpose; and that, to 
prevent frauds, as well as to point out the 
means of application to the office for redress in 
case of complaint, these hacks should all be 
marked and numbered, like the hackney- 
coaches. 

As it is incumbent on every Englishman to 
expose his life in defence of his country against 
the common enemy, I must particularly recom- 
mend, that some means may be devised, that 



the gallant feats of those men of honour, who 
rather choose to risk their lives in the modish 
way of duelling, may be attended with some ad- 
vantage to their countrymen. I would, there- 
fore advise, that swords and pistols, of a settled 
length and bore, with the Tower-stamp, be pro- 
vided by the government for the use of duellists, 
and that they shall not presume to make use of 
any other, under pain of incurring the guilt of 
murder. These weapons may be let out at a 
certain price ; and if one of the parties hap- 
pen to kill the other, the survivor shall be sub- 
ject to a fine according to his rank and sta- 
tion, and a jury shall be directed to bring 
in a verdict of self-defence. In like manner, 
persons of quality may have le.ive gi'anted 
them to put an end to their o^vn lives, after 
an ill run at cards, or the like emergent occa- 
sions ; when, on paying a certain rate, they may 
be indulged in a private execution from the 
hands of Jack Ketch, and the coroner's inquest 
shall be directed to bring in their verdict— lu- 
nacy. 

I am. Sir, your humble Servant, &c. 



TO MR. TOWX. 



Sir, 



As you are a Connoisseur, I shall make no apo- 
logy for desiring you to give the following adver- 
tisement (which has already appeared in the 
Daily Advertiser) a place m some corner of your 
paper. By doing this you will greatly oblige 
the virtuosi in flowers, as well as 

Your humble Servant, 8sc. 

TO BE SOLD BY SUBSCRIPTION. 

At Half a Guinea each Plant, 
An Auricula, raised by Mr. "William Red- 
mond, at Islington, named the Triumph ; hav- 
ing fine grass, a strong stem, certain blower, a 
large trusser, the fingers a just length, a good 
pip for size and shape, the eye extremely white, 
the thrum full, the margin a beautiful purple 
black, finely variegated with silver and green, 
continues long in bloom, and dies in colour. No 
plant to be sold for less than one guinea after the 
subscription is closed, until the bloom is ovex. 



No. 111.] Thursday, March II, 1756. 



Tandnn desine matran. 



HOR. 



With dear mamma O make not such a pother ! 
But strive to be a man before your mother. 

The generality of the young uimiarried ladies of 
the present age dislike no company so much as 
the elderly pers(ms of their own sex, whether 
married or unmarried. Going with an old 



Xo. 111.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



189 



maiden aunt, a mamma, or grand-mamma to 
the play, or to Ranelagh, is so insipid an amuse- 
ment, that it robs their entertainment of the 
very name of a party of pleasure. To be hand- 
ed into a box, walk in the public gardens, or 
make one at a card-table at a rout, with a spright- 
ly young nobleman, or gallant colonel of the 
guards, has some life in it ; but to be kept per- 
petually under the wing of an old lady, can have 
no charms for a woman of spirit. The presence 
of these antiquated females imposes a constraint 
on their behaviour ; they are, indeed, like the 
Duennas in Spain, spies on the conduct of the 
gay and young : and a good old gentlewoman, 
with a blooming beauty by her side, watches 
her every motion, and is as much frighted, if the 
pretty creature makes any advances to a man, as 
a hen, n'bo has been foster-mother to a brood of 
ducklins, is alarmed at their taking to the water. 
This loose coquet behaviour so much in vogue, 
and consequently so genteel, has, I must own, 
no charms in my eye, as a modest deportment 
appears to me most natural and becoming in the 
fair sex; and I am always glad to see a young 
lady of sufficient sense and discretion, to behave 
with an innocent cheerfulness, instead of appa- 
rent uneasiness and constraint, before her more 
aged female friends and relations. But though 
a daughter should prefer no company to her 
mother, a son, who always dangled at the side of 
his mamma, would appear as ridiculous, as if he 
wore his sister's petticoats , and however amia- 
ble this maidenly demeanour might seem in a 
young girl, I cannot view it with equal appro- 
bation in the character of a male virgin ; — -a cha- 
racter with which I shall here present my reader, 
as drawn by one of my correspondents. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



You have already given us several instances 
of those ambiguous creatures among the men, 
%vho are both male and female : permit me to 
add to them an account of those lady-like gen- 
tlemen, whom we may distinguish by the title 
of "their mother's own sons;" who have in 
vain changed the bib and leading-strings for 
the breeches, and stick as close to their mammas, 
as a great calf to the side of an old cow. I am 
intimately acquainted with one of these over- 
grown babies ; who is indeed too big to be dandled 
in the lap, or fed with a pap-spoon, though he 
is no more weaned from his mother, than if he 
had not yet quitted the nursery. 

The delicate Billy Suckling is the contempt 
of the men, the jest of the women, and the dar- 
ling of his mamma. She doats on him to dis- 
traction ; and is in perpetual admiration of his 
wit, and anxiety for his health. The good 
young gentleman, for his part, is neither un- 
dutiful nor ungrateful : she is the only woman 
that he does not look on with indifference ; and 



she is his tutoress, his physician, and his nurse. 
She provides his broth every evening ; will not 
suffer him to look into a book by candle-light 
lest he should hurt his eyes ; and takes care to 
have his bed Avarmed : naj', 1 have known him 
sit with his mamma's white handkerchief round 
his neck through a whole visit, to guard him 
from the wind of that ugly door, or that terrible 
chink in the wainscot. 

But however familiarly he may behave in his 
addresses to his mother, and whatever little acts 
of gallantry may pass between them, no en- 
couragement can prevail on him to treat other 
women with the same freedom. Being once 
desired at a ball to dance a minuet, instead of 
taking out any of the young ladies, he could 
pitch upon no partner so agreeable, to whom he 
might offer the compliment of his hand, as his 
mother ; and I remember when he was once 
called upon in a large company at a tavern to 
give a lady in his turn, he plainly showed who 
was the sole misti-ess of his affections by toast- 
ing his mother. The gallant custom of chal- 
lenging a lady to drink a bumper, by leaving it 
to her option whether she will have hob or nob, 
fi'equently gives a delicious flavour to the liquor, 
especially when, as I have known it happen, 
joining the lips of the glasses has made a pre- 
lude to a meeting between the lips of the par- 
ties : but he could not be prevailed on to accept 
a glass of claret from the fairest hand, though a 
kiss were sure to follow it. 1 have known him 
so very nice, as to refuse a glass of sack filled 
with walnuts, which had betn peeled by the 
snowy fingers of a beautiful young lady ; though 
I have seen him smack his lips after a glass of 
raisin wine, in which his prudent mother had 
been dabbling with her snuffy finger, in order 
to fish out the small particles of cork, which 
might possibly have choked him. If a lady 
drops her fan, he sits without any emotion, and 
suffers her to stoop for it herself; or if she 
strikes the tea-cup against the saucer to give 
notice that it is empty, he pays no regard to the 
signal, but sees her walk up to the tea-table, 
without stirring from his chair. He would 
I'ather leave the most celebrated beauty, in cross- 
ing the street, to the mercy of a drayman, than 
trust her with his little finger : though at the 
same time, should his mother be so distressed, 
he would not scruple to bear as much of her 
weight as he could stand under, and to redeem 
her silk stockings from jeopardy, would even 
expose his own. 

One Avould imagine, that this extreme coy- 
ness and reserve, in which he so remarkably dif- 
fers from the generality of his own sex, would in 
another respect as effectually distinguish him 
from thegenerality of women : I mean that being 
less polite in his address than a footman, we should 
hardly expect to find him more loquacious than a 
chambermaid. But this is really the case : suffer 



190 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 112. 



iiim to take the lead in conversation, and there 
are certain topics, in which the most prating 
gossip at a christening would find it difficult to 
cope with him. The strength of his constitu- 
tion is his favourite theme : he is constantly at- 
tempting to prove, that he is not susceptible of 
the least injury from cold : though a hoarseness 
in his voice, and the continual interruptions of 
a consumptive cough, give him the lie in his 
throat at the end of every sentence. The in- 
stances, indeed, by which he endeavours to 
prove his hardiness, unluckily rather tend 
to convince us of the delicacy of his frame, 
as they seldom amount to more than his 
having kicked off the bed-clothes in his sleep, 
laid aside one of his flannel waistcoats in a hot 
day, or tried on a new pair of pumps, before 
they had been sufficiently aired. For the truth 
of these facts he always appeals to his mamma, 
who vouches for him with a sigh, and protests 
that his carelessness would ruin the constitu- 
tion of a hoi'se. 

I am now coming to the most extraordinary 
part of his character. This pusillanimous crea- 
ture thinks himself, and would be thought, a 
buck. The noble fraternity of that order find, 
that their reputation can be no otherwise main- 
tained, than by prevailing on an Irish chairman 
now and then to favour them with a broken 
head, or by conferring the same token of their 
esteem on the unarmed and defenceless waiters at 
a taA'ern. But these feats are by no means suited 
to the disposition of our hero : and yet he al- 
ways looks upon his harmless exploits as the 
bold frolics of a buck. If he escapes a nervous 
fever a month, he is quite a buck ; if he walks 
home after it is dark, without his mamma's 
maid to attend him, he is quite a buck : if he 
sits up an hour later than his usual time, or 
drinks a glass or two of wine without water, he 
tails it a debauch ; and because his head does 
not ache the next morning, he is quite a buck. 
In short, a woman of the least spirit within the 
precincts of St. James's would demolish him in 
a week, should he pretend to keep pace with her 
in her irregularities : and yet he is ever dig- 
nifying himself with the appellation of buck. 

Now might it not be giving this gentleman a 
useful hint, Mr Town, to assure him, that while 
milk and water is his darling liquor, a bamboo 
cane his club, and his mother the sole object of 
his affections, the world will never join in deno- 
minating him a buck : that if he fails in this 
attempt, he is absolutely excluded from every 
order in society ; for whatever his deserts may 
be, no assembly of antiquated virgins can ever 
acknowledge him for a sister, nature having as 
deplorably disqualified him for that rank in the 
community, as he has disqualified himself for 
every other : and that, though he never can 
arrive at the dignity of leading apes in hell, he 
may possibly be condemned to dangle in that 



capacity, at the apron-string of an old maid in 
the next world, for having so abominably re- 
sembled one in this. 

I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 
W. C. 



No. 112.] Thursday, March 18, 1756. 



Aureus axis erat, temo aureus, aurca summ^ 
Curvatura rota;, radiorum argenteus ordo : 
Perjuga chrysolithi, positcEque ex ordine gemrrue. 

Ovid. 
Here on a fair one's head-dress sparkling sticks, 
Swinging on silver springs, a coach and six ; 
There on a sprig or slop'd pompon you see 
A chariot, sulky, chaise, or vis-a-vis. 

TO MR. TOWN. 

Sir, 
It has for a long time been observable that the la- 
dies' heads have run much upon wheels ; but of 
late there has appeared a strange kind of inversion, 
for the wheels now run upon the ladies' heads. As 
this assertion may probably puzzle many readers 
who pay no attention to the rapid and whim- 
sical revolutions of modern taste, it will be ne- 
cessary to inform them, that instead of a cap, 
the present mode is for every female of fashion 
to load her head with some kind of carrijige ; 
w^hether they are made with broad wheels or 
not, I cannot determine ; however, as they are 
undoubtedly excluded the Turnpike Act, it is 
by no means material. Those heads which are 
not able to bear a coach and six (for vehicles of 
this sort are very apt to crack the brain) so far 
act consistently with prudence as to make use of 
a post-chariot, or a single-horse chaise with a 
beau perching in the middle. 

The curiosity 1 had of knowing the purport 
of this invention, and the general name of these 
machines, led me to make inquiry about thero 
of a fashionable milliner, at the court end of the 
town. She obliged me with the sight of one of 
these equipages, designed for the head of a lady 
of quality, which I surveyed with much admi- 
ration ; and placing it on the palm of my hand, 
could not help fancying myself, like Gulliver, 
taking up the Empress of Lilliput in her state- 
coach. The vehicle itself was constructed of 
gold threads, and was drawn by six dapple greys 
of blown glass, with a coachman, postilion, and 
gentleman within, of the same brittle manufac- 
ture. Upon further inquiry, the milliner told 
me with a smile, that it was difficult to give a 
reason for inventions so full of whim, but that 
the name of this ornament (if it may be called 
such) was a capriole or a cabriole ; which we 
may trace from the same original with our Eng- 
lish word caprice, both being derived from the 
French word cahrer, which signifies to prance 
like a horse. 



No. 112.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



191 



It is not to be doubted, but that this fashion 
took its rise among the ladies from their fondness 
for equipage ; and I dare say, that every fair 
one, who carries a coach and six upon her head, 
would be glad to be cari-ied with equal splendour 
in a coach of her own. I would therefore pro- 
pose a scheme, which might render this whim- 
sical mode of some kind of service to both sexes ; 
by which the ladies may give a tacit hint of their 
inclinations without the least breach of modesty, 
the men may prevent the danger and inconveni- 
ence attending the present method of advertising 
for wives, and the whole course of a modern 
courtship may be carried on, by means of this 
new head-dress. 

Instead of a capriole, suppose this capital 
decoration w^as called a scutcheon of pretence, 
which must not be here understood as a term of 
heraldi-y, but as an invitation to matrimony. 
Thus, if a lady presumes that she has a right, 
either ft'om her wit, beauty, merit, or fortune, 
to pretend to a set of horses, let six bright bays, 
blacks, or greys, prance down one side of her 
head ; and according to the rank she insists 
upon, let a ducal or an earl's coronet, or a bloody 
hand be distinguished upon her capriole. The 
females of less ambition may likewise express 
their inclinations by a post-chariot and pair ; 
and even those who, from a due consideration of 
the low condition of the funds, are so conde- 
scending as to stoop to a plain cit, have nothing 
to do but to fix upon their heads a single-horse 
chaise, filled with a loving couple, sticking as 
close together as two dried figs. As to those 
who have rashly vowed virginity, if their great 
proneness to censure the rest of their sex, and 
the fretfulness of their aspect, be not sufl&cient 
indications to keep the men at a distance, they 
may erect upon their noddles a formal female 
seated in a sulky, foolishly pleased with having 
the w^hole vehicle to herself, and awkwardly 
exercising the imaginary power of having the 
sole command of the reins. 

As a further means of facilitating this new 
method of coiu'tship, I must beg leave to pro- 
pose, that every lady's bosom should, instead of 
a pendent cross, which savours of popery, be 
ornamented with a chain and locket, something 
like those bottle-tickets, which direct us to port, 
claret, or burgundy, upon which might be cui-i- 
ously engraved the numbers two hundred, five 
hundred, or a thousand, according to the settle- 
ment expected. But to those female Quixotes 
who scorn the capriole, and erect windmills 
upon their heads instead of it, I shall offer a 
word of advice worthy their attention; which 
is, that they would provide a pipe of communi- 
cation, to be conveyed from these machines to 
the brain, and constituted upon the model of 
the ingenious Dr. Hale's ventilators, that when- 
ever the sails of the windmill are put into 
motion by the external air, they may draw off 



all pernicious vapours, which may occasion a 
vertigo in the inside, as well as on the outside of 
their heads. 

I am. Sir, your humble Servant, 
H. 

I am much pleased with the proposal of my 
ingenious correspondent, and think it particu- 
larly well adapted to the present disposition of 
the ladies. A fondness for showy equipages is 
now become one of their darling passions ; and 
the splendour in which they are to be maintain- 
ed, seems to be one of the chief considerations in 
modern matches. If a fine lady can be carried 
to court in a chair richly ornamented, or roll to 
the opera in a rich gUt chai'iot, she little con- 
siders with how disagreeabJe a companion she 
goes through the journey of life : and a polite 
female would no more fix her affections on a 
man, who drives but a beggarly pair, than she 
could be contented with being tumbled down to 
his country seat, like Punch's wife to Rumford, 
in a wheel-barrow. 

The ladies having thus strongly manifested 
their passion for equipage, the gentlemen, I 
suppose, out of mere gallantry, and in order to 
further the gi-atification of theii" desii'es, have 
taken great pains to convert themselves into 
coachmen, grooms, and jockeys. The flapped 
hat, the jemmy frock with plate buttons and a 
leathern belt, and the pride which some young 
men of quality take in driving, are all calculated 
the better to qualify them for being the ladies' 
humble servants. I am therefore for extending 
my correspondent's scheme : and as the ladies 
now adorn their heads with the sign of a coach 
and six, like the door of a IVIews' alehouse, I 
would have the gentlemen also bear these emble- 
matical vehicles ; by which the other sex may, 
by a single glance at a lover's head, see in what 
state they will be supported ; as we know a 
clergjTnan by his rose, or an officer by his coc- 
kade. 

The pretty fellows, who study dress, might 
show a gi'eat deal of invention in sviiting their 
caprioles to their circumstances. Any noble- 
man or gentleman, who has the honour to be a 
know^ing one, might show his affection for the 
turf by carrying the horse and jockey ; another, 
who is an excellent driver, might beai* his own 
figure exalted in a phaeton ; and a thh'd, who 
thinks of picking up a partner for life, that can 
be pleased with a tete-a-tete or sober piquet party, 
with her husband, may bear a vis-a-vis. In a 
word, aU the different proposals of various 
suitors might be made by means of these orna- 
ments, which might be worn over the foreheads 
of the beaux, like the white horse in the grena- 
diers' caps ; and the ladies might be as much 
smitten with a promising capriole on the head 
of a lover, as heretofore with an elegant pai- 
wig. 



192 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. lis. 



If this mode should prevail, the concluding a 
treaty of marriage between two persons of qua- 
lity might be considered in the same light, and 
expressed in the same terms, as making a match 
at Newmarket ; and instead of the hackneyed 
phrases at pi'esent used by our news- writers, we 
might perhaps see the important articles, con- 
cerning marriages, drawn up after the fol- 
lowing manner : 

We hear that a match will be shortly made 
between the mourning coach and six of a mer- 
chant's widow with a great jointure, and a hun- 
ter, in fine order, belonging to a younger brother 
of a noble family. 

A running horse, highly valued for his blood, 
is expected to start soon with a young filly from 
Yorkshire. Many thousand pounds are depend- 
irrg on this match. 

A few days ago a young fellow from Ireland, 
mounted on a single horse, attacked an heiress 
in her coach and six. The lady made little or 
no resistance, and suffered herself to be taken 
out of the coach, and carried oiF behind him. 

A gay coach and six, belonging to a young 
heir j ust of age, came to town last week in great 
splendour, and was intended to be matched with 
an equipage of the same kind : but having un- 
fortunately run against Arthur's chocolate- 
house, it broke down, and the owner was very 
much hurt. 

We hear from Bath, that the post-chaise of a 
young lady of great beauty lately made its ap- 
pearance in the long-room, and soon after went 
off with the landau of a neighbouring country 
squire. 

We are also informed from the same place, 
that an old-fashioned two-wheel chaise with a 
single horse, contrived to hold only one person, 
had driven about the walks for some time ; but 
having jostled against the sulky of an old bach- 
elor, in his grand climacteric, it was judged ex- 
pedient to join them together ; when they form- 
ed a most agreeable vis-a-vis, for the mutual 
accommodation of both parties. 



No. lis.] Thursday, March 26, 1756. 



O sancias gentes, quibus hcec nascuntur in hortis 
Nmnina ! 

O hallowed ground ! a grove here rev'rend nods. 
Here thick plantations rise of all the gods. 

Virtue is almost the only instance in which the 
appearance of literary knowledge is affected in 
the present age ; and our persons of rank ac- 
quire just enough scholarship, to qualify them- 
selves for Connoisseurs. This sort of students be- 
come sufficiently acquainted with the customs of 
the ancients, to learn the least interesting particu- 
lars concerning them. They can distinguish a 



Tiberius from a Trajan, know the pantheon 
from the amphitheatre, and can explain the dif- 
ference between the prcetexla and the tunica ; 
which (only supposing the present times to have 
elapsed some hundred years) is just as deep 
knowledge, as if some future antiquary should 
discover the difference between a Carolus and an 
Anna, or St. Paul's church and Drury-lune 
play-house, or a full-trimmed suit and a French 
frock. 

But the full display of modern polite learning 
is exhibited in the decorations of pai'ks, gardens, 
&c. and centred in that important monosyllable, 
taste. Taste comprehends the whole circle of 
the polite arts, and sheds its influence on every 
lawn, avenue, grass-plot, and parterre. Taste 
has peopled the walks and gardens of the great 
with more numerous inhabitants than the an- 
cient Satyrs, Fauns, and Dryads. While in- 
fidelity has expunged the Christian theology 
from our creed, taste has introduced the heathen 
mythology into our gardens. If a pond is dug, 
Neptune, at the command of taste, emerges from 
the bason, and presides in the middle; or if a 
vista is cut through a grove, it must be termi- 
nated by a Flora, or an Apollo. As the ancients 
held that every spot of ground had its guardian 
genius, and that woodland deities were pegged 
in the knotty entrails of every tree, so in the 
gardens laid out by modern taste, every walk is 
peopled with gods and goddesses, and every cor- 
ner of it has its tutelar deity. Temples are e- 
rected to all the train of deities mentioned in 
Homer or Ovid, which edifices as well as their 
several statues, are adorned with Latin or Greek 
inscriptions ; while the learned owner wonders 
at his own surprising stock of literature, which 
he sees drawn out at large before him, like the 
whole knowledge of an apothecary inscribed 
upon his gallipots. 

These persons of taste may be considered as 
a sort of learned idolaters, since they may be 
almost said to adore these graven images, and 
are quite enthusiastic in their veneration of them. 
The following letter may possibly give them 
some offence ; but as I have myself no extrava- 
gant fondness for a Jupiter Tonans or a Belvi- 
dere Apollo, I heartily wish the scheme pro- 
posed by my correspondent may take place, 
though it should reduce the price of heathen 
godheads. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



SlK, 



At a time when all wise heads are considering 
of ways and means to raise taxes, that may prove 
the least oppressive to indigence, and the most ef- 
fectually restrictive of luxury, permit me to pro- 
pose (as a supplement to the thoughts of one of 
your correspondents on this subject) a national 
tax upon gods. 

It is u strange but an kudeniable truth, Mr. 



No. 114.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



193 



Town, that if you and I were to travel through 
England, and to visit the citizen in his country 
box, the nobleman at his seat, the esquire at the 
hall-house, and even the divine at his parsonage, 
we should find the gardens, avenues, and groves, 
belonging to each mansion, stuifed and ornament- 
ed with heathen gods. 

In the present declining state of our established 
religion, I almost tremble to consider what may 
be the consequences of these ready-made deities. 
Far be it from me to suppose that the great and 
the rich will worship any god whatsoever; but 
still I am induced tc fear that the poor and the 
vulgar, when they find all other worship ridi- 
culed and laid aside, may foolishly take to these 
molten images, and adore every leaden godhead 
they can find. If a tax on wheels has put down 
some hundreds orcoaches, by a parity of reason, 
a tax upon gods may pull down an equal, if not 
a greater, number of statues. I would also 
offer another proposal : which is this ; that an 
oak be immediately planted wherever a statue 
has been taken away ; by which means those 
vast woods, which of late years have been cut 
down in England, to supply the immediate ne- 
cessities of the illustrious Arthurites in St. 
James's-street, may be in some measure sup- 
plied to future generations. 

Among our present taxes, some of them fall 
upon branches of splendour, not totally luxu- 
rious. Wheel carriages may be necessary ; want 
of health or lameness of limbs may require 
them ; but what necessities can we pretend for 
statues in our gardens, Penates in our libraries, 
and Lares on every chimney-piece ? I have 
remarked many wild whims of this kind, that 
have appeared submissions,-if not attachments, to 
idolatry. A gentleman of my acquaintance has 
destroyed his chapel, merely because he could 
not put up statues in it, and has filled his garden 
with every god, that can be found in Spence's 
Polymetis. Another of my friends, after 
having placed a Belvidere Apollo very conspi- 
cuously and naked upon the top of a mount, has 
erected an obelisk to the Sun : and this expense 
he has not put himself to for the beauty of the 
obelisk, for it is not beautiful, nor again for the 
splendour of the planet, which is of pewter dou- 
ble gilt, but only because, being in possession of 
copies or originals of every deity that Greece or 
Italy could boast, he was resolved to have the god 
of Persia to complete his collection. A poU- 
tax, therefore, upon gods and goddesses, be their 
representation what it will, suns, dogs, moons, 
or monkeys, is absolutely necessary, and would 
infallibly bring in a large revenue to the state. 

Happening to be the other day at Slaughter's 
cofi'ee-house, in St. IMartin's-Lane, I saw two 
very fine statues of Fame and Fortune, brought 
out of 3Ir. Roubilliac's gate, and exposed to 
view, before they were nailed up and carted. 
The boy of the house told us they were to be 



placed upon the top of Sir Thomas 's chapel 

in Hampshire. " Is it for such as these," obser- 
ved a sneering papist, who stood near me, " that 
crucifixes have been removed, and that reverend 
saints and martyrs have been destroyed, and 
pounded into dust ? Is it for these, that St. Pe- 
ter has been broken to pieces, and St. Paul 
melted down into water pipes ? IMust our Lady 
make room for Proserpine? And the holy 
giant St. Christopher fall a victim to the Farne- 
sian Hercules ? Will you not agree with me, 
Sir," continued he, " that as men are induced, 
and almost constrained, to judge of others by 
their own manners and inclinations, vre who 
are supposed to worship the images of Christians, 
must naturally conclude, that the protestants of 
the Church of England worship the imager of 
heathens?" I confess 1 was at a loss how to an- 
swer the acuteness of his questions ; and must 
own, that I cannot help thinking St. Anthony 
preaching to the fishes, or St. Dunstan taking 
the devil by the nose, as proper ornaments for a 
chapel, as any pagan deities whatever. 

Hitherto I have kept you entirely among the 
molten images without doors, but were we to 
enter the several mansions whose avenues and 
demesnes are adorned in the manner I describe, 
we should fiud every chamber a pagod, filled 
with all the monstrous images that the idolatry 
of India can produce. I will not presume to in- 
fer, that the ladies address kitoos (prayers which 
the Japanese make use of in time of public dis- 
tress) to their Ingens, but I am apt to surmise, 
that in times of danger and invasion, some ot 
your fair readers wovdd be more alarmed at the 
approach of the French to their china than to 
their chapels, and would sooner give up a fa- 
vourite lap-dog, than a grotesque chimney-piece 
figure of a Chinese saint with numberless heads 
and arms. I have not yet digested my thoughts, 
in what manner the fair sex ought to be taxed. 
It is a tender point, and requires consideration. 
At present, I am of opinion, they ought to be 
spared, and the whole burden^ entirely laid up- 
on those Bramins and Imans, whose idolatrous 
temples lie publicly open to our streets. 

I am, Sir, your most humble Servant, 

3I0SES Orthodox. 



Xo. 11-i. Thursday, April 1, 1756. 



Vesanian tefigisse timentfugiuniqve poefam. 



Hoa. 



Fly ! neighbours, fly ! he raves ; his verses show it : 
Fly ! or you're caught, you're bit by a mad poeL 

I Remember, when I Tvas very young, a rela- 
tion carried me to visit a gentleman who had 
wrote some pieces that hadbeen very well receiv* 
Cc 



1.94 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 114. 



ed, and made me very happy by promising to 
introduce me to an author. As soon as I came, 
I surveyed his whole person from top to 
toe with the strictest attention, sat open- 
mouthed to catch every syllable that he 
uttered, and noticed his voice, manner, and 
every Avord and gesture, with the minutest 
observation. I could not help whispering to 
myself the whole evening, " I am in company 
with an author," and waited with the most 
anxious impatience to hear him deliver some- 
thing that might distinguish him from the rest 
of mankind. The gentleman behaved with 
great cheerfulness and politeness : but he did 
not at all answer the idea which I had conceived 
of an author ; and I vi^ent home exceedingly 
disappointed, because I could not find any 
striking difference between him and the rest of 
my acquaintance. 

There is no character in human life, which is 
the subject of more frequent speculation among 
the vulgar, than an author. Some look on him 
with contempt, and others with admiration ; 
but they all agree in believing him to be some- 
thing different from all other people : and it is 
i-emarkable with what greediness they attend to 
any little anecdotes, which they can pick up 
concerning his life and conversation. He is, 
indeed, a kind of an ideal being, of which people 
conceive very dift'erent notions. By some he is 
supposed never to stir out of a gai-ret, to wear a 
rusty black coat, dirty shirt, and darned stock- 
ings, and to want all the necessaries as well as 
conveniences, of life ; while others regard him 
as a creatiu'e superior to the rest of mortals, and 
endowed with something more than reason. 
One part, therefore, is surprised to see him walk 
abroad, and appear as well dressed as other peo- 
ple ; and another is disappointed, when they find 
him talk and act, and fill the offices of life no 
better than any other common niau. 

Nor is it less curious to consider the different 
ideas they conceive of the manner in w^hich the 
business of writing is executed. The novice in 
literature, " smit with the love of sacred song," 
but not yet dipt in ink, supposes it all rapture 
and enthusiasm, and in imagination sees the 
author running wildly about his room, talk- 
ing poetry to the chairs and tables ; while the 
mechanic considers him as Avorking at his trade, 
and thinks he can sit down to write, whenever 
he pleases, as readily as the smith can labour at 
his foi'ge, or a carpenter plane a board. Indeed, 
he regards the author with some veneration as a 
scholar: but Avriting appears to him a mighty 
easy business, and he smiles, whenever he hears 
any body mention the Labour of it; nor has he 
the least conception of the Tnind's being fatigued 
with thinking, and the fancy harassed with 
pursuing a long train of ideas. 

As people are led frequently to judge of a man 
from his ordinary conversation, so it is common 



for them to form an idea of the author's dispo- 
sition from the peculiar turn and colour of his 
writings : they expect a gloom to be spread over 
the face of a mathematician ; a controversial 
writpr must be given to wrangling and dispute ; 
and they imagine that a satirist must be made up 
of spleen, envy, and ill-nature. But this crite- 
rion is by no means certain and determinate : I 
know an author of a tragedy, who is the merri- 
es!; man living ; and one who has wrote a very 
witty comedy, though he will sit an horn- in 
company without speaking a word. Lord Buck- 
hurst is celebrated for being " the best good man 
with the worst natured muse ;" and Addison 
Avas remarkably shy and reserved in conversa- 
tion. I remember, I once fell into company 
with a painter, a poet, a divine, and a physician, 
who were no less famous for their wit and 
humoui', than for their excellence in their se%'e-- 
ral professions. After the usual common topics 
were discussed, the physician and the poet fell 
into a dispute concerning predestination j the 
divine smoked his pipe quietly, without putting 
in a word ; while the painter and myself formed 
a privy council for the good of the nation. 
Thus, were it possible to conjure up the spu'its 
of the most eminent wits in former ages, and 
put them together, they would perhaps appear 
to be very dull company. Virgil and Addison 
would probably sit staring at each other without 
opening their mouths ; Horace and Steele ivould 
perhaps join in commendation of the liquor ; 
and Swift would in all likelihood divert himself 
with sucking his cheeks, dx-awing figui-es in the 
wine spilt upon the table, or twii-ling the cork- 
screw round his finger. 

The strange pi-ejudices, which some persons 
conceive against authors, deter many a youth 
from drawing his pen in the service of litera- 
ture : or, if he ventiu-es to commit a favourite 
work to the press, he steals to the printer's with 
as much caution and i)rivacy as he would, per- 
haps, on another occasion, to a surgeon. He is 
afraid that he shall injure his chai-acter by being 
known to have written any thing, and that the 
genteel part of his acquaintance will despise him 
as a low wretch, as soon as they discover him to 
be an author ; as if merely the appeai-ing in 
print was a disgrace to a gentleman, and the 
iniprwiatui- to his works was no more than a 
stamp of shame and ignominy. These are the 
terrors which at first disturb the peace of Jilmost 
every author, and have often put me in mind of 
the exclamation of that writer, -who cried out, 
" O that mine enemy had written a book !" 

These fearful apprehensions are perhaps no 
unlucky drawback on the vanity natural to all 
authoi's, Avhich undoubtedly they often conceal 
or suppress, out of deference to the world : but 
if this fiUse modesty is too much cherished, it 
must of course damp all genius, and discourage 
every literary undertaking. Why should it 



No. 115.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



195 



be disgraceful to exert the noblest facilities 
given us by nature? and why should any 
man blush at acquitting himself weU in a 
worjc, which there is scarce one in five hundred 
has a capacity to perforin ? Even supposing an 
author to support himself by the profit arising 
from his works, there is nothing more dishonest, 
scandalous, or mean in it, than an officer in the 
army (the poUtest of all professions) living on 
his commission. Sense and genius are as pro- 
per commodities to traffic in, as courage ; and an 
author is no more to be condemned as a hackney 
scribbler, though he writes at the rate of so much 
per sheet, than a colonel should be despised as a 
mercenary and a bravo, for exposing himself to 
be slashed, stuck, and shot at for so much per 
day. The truth is, that authors themselves often 
create the evils they complain of, and bring a 
disgrace on the service of literature, by being 
ashamed to wear the badge of it. Voltaire in his 
letters on the English, relates a remarkable in- 
stance of this kind of false pride in our own 
Congreve. Voltaire, when he was in Y.ngland, 
waited on Congreve, and told him, that he was 
glad of an opportunity of paying his respects to a 
writer so much celebrated for his wit and hu- 
mour. Congreve received him politely enough, 
but replied, that he should be glad to see him as 
a common gentleman, but would not be consider- 
ed or conversed with as an author. The French 
writer was a good deal surprised at such a ridi- 
culous piece of delicacy, and could not help tel- 
ling him, that if he had been no more than a 
common gentleman, he should never have had 
any desire of seeing him. 

I have often pleased myself with reflecting 
on the different opinions, wliich my readers 
must have formed of me, since my first ap- 
pearance as an author. As poverty is one of 
the general characteristics of our brotherhood, 
those who indulge themselves in a contempt of 
•writers, have, I doubt not, often painted me 
to their imagination in a very grotesque taste. 
Their ideal caricatui-es have perhaps often re- 
presented me lodged at least three stories fi'om 
the ground, composing dissertations on the mo- 
dern taste in architecture : at another time 1 
may have been delineated sitting in a tattered 
night-gown and the breeches of a heathen phi- 
losopher, writing satires on the present modes 
in dress : • and sometimes perhaps they have 
figured me half-starved, for want of a hearty 
meal, penning invectives against luxury and de- 
bauchery. 

I But, while these have reduced me to this 
low condition, and " steeped me in poverty to 
the very lips," I flatter myself, that some few 
have bestowed on me an extraordinary share 
of virtue and understanding. After so many 
grave lessons against the vices and luxury of 
the present age, they will naturally suppose 
that I never risked a farthing at the gaming 



table, never kept a mistress, would decline an 
invitation to a turtle feast, and, rather than be 
provoked to fight a duel, would take a kick 
on the breech, or tweak by the nose, with all 
the calmness and resignation imaginable. As to 
my wit and humonp, I should blush to set down 
the many compliments I have had from several 
unknown correspondents on that head ; and I 
once received a note from a very honest gentle- 
man, who desired to spend an evening with me, 
promising himself great diversion in cracking a 
bottle with the facetious Mr. Town, 

These various opinions of me as an author I 
shall never labour to reconcile ; but shall be 
equally contented with instructing or amusing 
the gentle reader, whether he considers my 
papers as favours showered down upon him from 
a bookseDer's garret, or issuing from my own 
apartment. However this may be, I shall never 
think it a disgrace to have written, or be asham- 
ed to be considered as an author ; and if ever 
Mr. Voltaire should think proper to visit Eng- 
land again, I shall be very glad of a literary 
chat with him, and wOl give him a most gi-acious 
reception. T. 



No. 115.] Thursday, April 8, 1756. 



-—Calebs quid agam ? 

With an old bachelor how things miscarry ! 
What shall 1 do ? go hang myself? or marry ? 



HOR. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



No man is a sincerer friend to innocent pleasan- 
try, or more desirous of promoting it, than my- 
self. Raillery of every kind, provided it be con- 
fined within due bounds, is, in my opinion, an 
excellent ingredient in conversation ; and 1 am 
never displeased, if I can contribute to the harm- 
less mirth of the company, by being myself the 
subject of it : but, in good truth, I have neither 
a fortune, a constitution, nor a temper, that will 
enable me to chuckle and shake my sides, while 
I suffer more from the festivity of my friends, 
than the spleen or malice of my enemies could 
possibly inflict upon me ; nor do I see any reason 
why I should so far move the mirthful indigna- 
tion of the ladies, as to be teased and worried to 
death in mere sport, for no earthly reason, but 
that I am what the world calls an old bachelor. 
The female part of my acquaintance entertain 
an odd opinion that a bachelor is not, in fact, a 
rational creature ; at least, that he has not the 
sense of feeling in common with the rest of man- 
kind ; that a bachelor may be beaten like a stock- 
fish; that you may thrust pins into his legs, and 
wring him by the nose ; in short, that you can- 
not take too many liberties v/ith a baclielor. J 



196 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 115 



am at a loss to conceive on what foundation 
these romping philosophers have grounded their 
hjT)othesis, though at the same time, 1 am a me- 
lancholy proof of its existence, as well as of its 
absurdity. 

A friend of mine, whom I frequently visit, has 
a wife and three daughters, the youngest of which 
has persecuted me these ten years. These in- 
genious young ladies have not only found out the 
sole end and purpose of my being themselves, 
but have likewise communicated their discovery 
to all the girls in the neighbourhood : so that if 
they happen at any time to be apprized of my 
coming, (which I take all possible care to pre- 
vent) they immediately despatch half a dozen 
cards to their faithful allies, to beg the favour of 
their company to drink coffee, and help to tease 
Mr. Ironside. Upon these occasions, my entry 
into the room is sometimes obstructed by a cord 
fastened across the bottom of the door-case: 
which as I am a little near-sighted, I seldom 
discover, till it has brought me upon ihy knees 
before them. While 1 am employed in brush- 
ing the dust from my black rollers, or chafing 
my broken shins, my wig is suddenly conveyed 
away, and either stuffed behind the looking-glass, 
or tossed from one to the other so dexterously 
and with such velocity, that, after many a fruit- 
less attempt to recover it, 1 am obliged to sit 
down bare-headed, to the great diversion of the 
spectators. The last time I found myself in 
these distressful circumstances, the eldest girl, 
a sprightly mischievous jade, stepped briskly up 
to me, and promised to restore my wig, if I 
would play her a tune on a small flute she held 
in her hand. I instantly applied it to my lips, 
and blowing lustily into it, to my inconceivable 
surprise, was immediately choked and blinded 
with a cloud of soot, that issued from every hole 
in the instrument. The younger part of the 
company declared I had not executed the condi- 
tions, and refused to surrender my wig ; but the 
father, who had a rough kind of facetiousness 
about him, insisted on its being delivered up, 
and protested that he never knew the black joke 
better performed in his life. 

I am naturally a quiet inoffensive animal, 
and not easily ruffled ; yet I shall never submit 
to these indignities with patience, till I am sa- 
tisfied I deserve them. Even the old maids of 
my acquaintance, who, one would think, might 
have a fellow-feeling for a brother in distress, 
conspire with their nieces to harass and torment 
me . and it is not many nights since Miss Diana 
Grizzle utterly spoiled the only superfine suit I 
have in the world, by pinning the skirts of it 
together with a red-hot poker. I own my re- 
sentment of this injury was so strong, that I 
determined to punish it by kissing the offender, 
which in cool blood I should never have attempt- 
ed. The satisfaction, however, which I ob- 
tained by this imprudent revenge, was much 



like what a man of honour feels on finding him- 
self run through the body by the scoundrel who 
had offended him. My upper lip was trans- 
fixed with a large corking pin, which in the 
scuffle she had conveyed into her mouth ; and I 
doubt not that I shall caiTy the memorem labris 
notam (the mark of this Judas kiss) from an 
old maid to the grave with me. 

These misfortunes, or others of the same kind, 
I encounter daily: but at these seasons of the 
year, which give a sanction to this kind of prac- 
tical wit, and when every man thinks he has a 
right to entertain himself at his friend's expense, 
I live in hourly apprehensions of some mortify- 
ing adventures. No miserable dung-hill cock, 
devoted a victim to the wanton cruelty of the 
mob, would be more ten*ified at the approach of 
a Shrove- Tuesday, were he endued with human 
reason and forecast, than I am at the approach 
of a merry Christmas or the first of April. 
No longer ago than last Thursday, which was 
the latter of these festivals, I was pestered with 
mortifying presents from the ladies ; obliged to 
pay the carriage of half a dozen oyster-barrels 
stuffed with brick-bats, and ten packets by the 
post containing nothing but old newspapers. 
But what vexed me the most, was the being 
sent fifty miles out of town, on that day, by a 
counterfeit express from a dying relation. 

I could not help reflecting, with a sigh, on the 
resemblance between the imaginary grievance of 
poor Tom in the tragedy of Lear, and those 
which 1 really experienced. I, like him, was led 
through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quag- 
mire ; and though knives were not laid under 
my pillow, minced horse-hair was strewed upon 
my sheets : like him 1 was made to ride on a 
hard trotting horse through the most dangerous 
ways, and found, at the end of my journey, that 
1 had only been coursing my.own shadow. 

As much a sufferer as I am by the behaviour 
of the women in general, I must not forget to 
remark, that the pertness and sauciness of an 
old maid is particularly offensive to me. I can- 
not help thinking, that the virginity of these 
ancient misses is at least as ridiculous as my 
own celibacy. If I am to be condemned for 
having never made an offer, they are as much to 
blame for having never accepted one : if I am 
to be derided for having never married, who 
never attempted to make a conquest, they are 
more properly the objects of derision who are 
still unmarried, after having made so many. 
Numberless are the proposals they have rejected, 
according to their own account : and they are 
eternally boasting of the havoc they have for- 
merly made among the knights, baronets, and 
squires, at Bath, Tunbridge, and Epsom ; while 
a tattered madrigal perhaps, a snip of hair, or 
the portrait of a cherry-cheeked gentleman in a 
milk-white periwig, are the only remaining 
proofs of those' beauties, which are now with- 



No. 116.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



197 



ered like the short lived rose, and have only left 
the virgin thorn I'emaining. 

Believe me, Mr. Town, I am almost afraid to 
trust you with the publication of this epistle ; 
the ladies, whom I last mentioned, will be so ex- 
asperated on reading it, that I must expect no 
quajler at their hands for the future ; since they 
are generally as little inclined to forgiveness in 
their old age, as they were to pity and compas- 
sion in their youth. One expedient, however, 
is left me, which, if put in execution, will effec- 
tually screen me from their resentment. 

I shall be happy, therefore, if by your means 
I may be penaitted to inform the ladies, that as 
fusty an animal as they think me, it is not im- 
possible but by a little gentler treatment than I 
have hitherto met with, I may be humanized 
into a husband. As an inducement to them to 
relieve me from my present uneasy circum- 
stances, you may assure them, that I am ren- 
dered so exceedingly tractable, by the very se- 
vere discipline I have undergone, that they may 
mould and fashion me to their minds with ease ; 
and, consequently, that by marrying me, a wo- 
man will save herself all that trouble which a 
wife of any spirit is obliged to take with an un- 
ruly husband, who is absurd enough to expect 
from her a strict performance of the marriage 
vow, even in the very minute article of obe- 
dience : that, so far from contradicting a lady, 
I shall be mighty well satisfied, if she contents 
herself with contradicting me : that, if I happen 
at any time inadvertently to thwart her inclina- 
tions, I shall think myself rightly served, if she 
boxes my ears, spits in my face, or treads upon 
my corns : that, if I approach her lips, when she 
is not in a kissing humour, I shall expect she 
will bite me by the nose ; or, if I take her by 
the hand at an improper season, that she will 
instantly begin to pinch, scratch, and claw, and 
apply her fingers to those purposes which they 
Avere certainly intended by nature to fulfil. Add 
to these accomplishments, so requisite to make 
the married state happy, that I am not much 
turned of fifty, can tie on my cravat, fasten 
a button, or mend a hole in my stocking without 
any assistance. 

I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 

Chkistopher Ironside. 



^^>%««'%^«««'V««^«^« 



No. 1 16.] Thursday, April 15, 1736. 



Despicere unde queas alios, passhnque videre 
Errare,lafqu€ viam palantes qu^erere vitce. Lucret. 

Here each profession, and its tribe we view. 
Some toiling in the old, and some inventing new. 

Those parents who are unable to give their sons 
An estate, regard the educating them to one of 



the three great professions of law, physic, and 
divinity, as putting them in the high road to ac- 
quire one. Hence it happens, that nineteen 
parts out of twenty of our young men are 
brought up with a view to Lambeth, the Seals, 
or Warwick-lane. But, alas ! their hopes and 
expectations of rising by their professions are 
often frustrated; and the surprising numbers, 
engaged in running the same race, necessarily 
jostle ont another. For though the courts of 
justice are tolerably supplied with matters of li- 
tigation ; though there are many invalids and 
valetudinarians ; and though great part of Eng- 
land is laid out into church preferments ; yet 
there is not, in all the kingdom, sufficient mat- 
ter for legal contention, to employ a tenth part 
of those who have been trained to engross deeds 
in their chamber, or to harangue at the bar : 
the number of patients bears no proportion to 
the swarms of the faculty, nor would it though 
a consultation vrere to sit on every sick man, 
like carrion-flies upon a carcase : and the prodi- 
gious number of reverend divines infinitely ex- 
ceeds that of those bishoprics, deaneries, pre- 
bends, rectories, vicarages, &c. which when they 
are ordained, they conceive it to be part of their 
holy orders to fill. From these frequent failures 
in each of the professions, the younger sons of 
great men often wish, that they had been per- 
mitted to disgi-ace the family by some mercantile, 
or more plebeian occupation ; while the son of 
the mechanic curses the pride of his father, who 
instead of securing him a livelihood in his ow^n 
business, has condemned him to starve in pud- 
ding-sleeves, that he may do honour to his I'ela- 
tions by being a gentleman. 

The three professions being thus crowded 
with more candidates for business and prefer- 
ment, than can possibly be employed or promot- 
ed, has occasioned several irregularities in the 
conduct of the followers of each of them. The 
utter impossibility of supporting themselves in 
the usual method of practising law, physic, or 
divinity, without clients, patients, or parishion- 
ers, has induced the labourers in each of those 
vocations to seek out new veins and branches. 
The young solicitor who finds he has nothing to 
do, now he is out of his clerkship, offers his as- 
sistance, in the transaction of all law affairs, 
by the public papers, and, like the advertising 
tailors, promises to work cheaper than any of 
his brethren ; while the young barrister, after 
having exhibited his tie-wig in Westminster- 
hall, during several terms to no purpose, is 
obliged to forego the hope of rivalling Murray 
and Coke, and content himself with being the 
oracle of the courts of Carolina or Jamaica. The 
graduate in medicine, finding himself unsolicited 
for prescription or advice, and likely to starve by 
practising physic secundum artem, flies in the 
face of the college, and professes to cure all dis- 



198 



THECONNOISSEUR. 



[Xo 116. 



by nostrums unmentioned in the dispensa- 
tory. He commences a thriving quack, and 
80on makes his way through the important me- 
dical degrees of walking on foot, riding on horse- 
back, dispensing his drugs from a one-horse chaise, 
and lastly lolling in a chariot. Thedivine without 
living, cure or lectureship, may perhaps incur 
transportation for illegal marriages, set up a 
theatrical-oratorical- Billingsgate chapel under 
the shelter of the toleration-act and the butchers 
of Clai-e-market, or kindle the inward light in 
the bosoms of the saints of Moorfielda, and the 
Magdalens of Broad St. Giles's. 

But notwithstanding these shoots, ingrafted, 
as it were, into the main body of the professions, 
it is still impossible for the vast multitude of di- 
vines, lawyers, and physicians, to maintain them- 
selves, at any rate, within the pale of their res- 
pective employments. They have often been 
compelled, at least, to call in adventitious ones, 
and have sometimes totally abandoned their ori- 
ginal undertakings. They have frequently 
made mutual transitions into the occupations of 
each other, or have perhaps embraced other em- 
ployments ; which though distinct from all three, 
and not usually dignified with the title of pi'o- 
7essions, may fairly be considered in that light ; 
since they are the sole means of support to many 
thousands, who toiled in vain for a subsistence 
in the three capital ones. On these professions, 
and their various followers, I shall here make 
some observations. 

The first of these professions is an author. 
The mart of literature is, indeed, one of the 
chief resorts of unbeneficed divines, and lawyers 
and physicians without practice. There are, 
at present, in the world of authors, doctors 
of physic, who (to use" the phrase of one of 
them) have no great fatigue from the business 
of their profession : many clergymen, whose 
sermons are the most inconsiderable part of 
their compositions : and several gentlemen of 
the inns of court, who, instead of driving the 
quill over ekins of parchment, lead it through 
all the mazes of modei'n novels, critiques, and 
pamphlets. Many likewise have embraced 
this profession, who were never bred to any 
other : and I might also mention the many 
bankrupt tradesmen and broken artificers, who 
daily enter into this new way of business, if, by 
pursuing it in the same mechanical manner as 
their former occupations, they might not rather 
be regarded as following a trade than a profes- 
sion. 

The second of these professions is a player. 
The ingenious gentlemen, who assume the per- 
sons of the drama, are composed of as great a 
variety of character as those they represent. 
The history of the stage might afford many in- 
stances of those, Avho in the ti'ade of death 
might have slain men, who have condescended 



to deal counterfeit slaughter from their right 
hands, and administer haitnless phials and 
bowls of poison. We might rea^i also of persons, 
whose fists were intended to beat ' the drum 
ecclesiastic,' who have themselves become thea- 
trical volunteei-s. In regard to the law, many 
who were originally designed to manifest their 
talents for elocution in Westminster-hall, have 
displayed them in Drury lane ; and it may be 
added, on theatrical authority, that 

Not e'en attorneys have this rage withstood. 

But chang'd their pens for truncheons, ink for blood. 

And, strange reverse!... died for their country's good. 

I will not so far affront those gentlemen, who 
v>ere at any time engaged in the study of the 
three honourable professions of law, physic, and 
divinity, as to suppose that any of them have 
ever taken the more fashionable employment of 
a pimp . yet it is certain, that this is a very 
common and lucrative profession, and that very 
many provide themselves with the nacessariea 
of life, by administering to the pleasures of 
others. A convenient cousin, sister, or wife, 
has sometimes proved the chief means of ma- 
king a fortune ; and the tongue of slander has 
often ventured to affirm, that the price of 
procuration has been paid with a place or a 
bishopric. 

The most advantageous and genteel of all pro- 
fessions is gaming. Whoever will make this 
science his study^, will find it the readiest way 
to riches, and most certain passport to the best 
company ; for the polite world wiU always ad- 
mit any one to their society, who will conde- 
scend to win their money. The followers of 
this pi'ofession are very numerous ; which is in- 
deed, no wonder, when we reflect on the num- 
bers it supports in ease and affluence, at no 
gi'eater pains than packing the cards or cogging 
the dice, and no more risk than being sometimes 
tweaked by the nose, or kicked out of company ; 
besides which, this profession daily receives new 
lustre from the many persons of quality that 
follow it, and crowd into it with as much eager- 
ness as into the army. Among gamesters may 
also be found lawyers, who get more by being 
masters of all the cases in Hoyle, than by their 
knowledge of those recorded in the Report- 
books ; physicians, the chief object of whose at- 
tention is the circulation of the E O table ; 
and divines, Avho, we may suppose, were hinted 
at by a famous wit in a certain assembly, when, 
among the other benefits resulting from a dou- 
ble tax upon dice, he thought fit to enumerate, 
that it might possibly prevent the clergy from 
playing at backgammon. 

But the more danger the more honour ; and 
therefore no profession is more honourable than 
that of a highwayman. Who the followers of 
this profession are, and with what success they 



No. 117.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



199 



practise it; I^ will not pretend to relate ; as the 
memoii-s of several of them have been already 
penned by the ordinary of Newgate, and as it is 
to be hoped, that the lives of all the present 
practitioners will be written hereafter by that 
faith fill historian. I shall, therefore, only say, that 
the present spirit of dissoluteness and free-think- 
ing must unavoidably bring this honourable 
profession more and more into vogue, and that 
every sessions may soon be expected to aiford an 
instance of a gentleman-highwayman. 
W. 



No. 117. 3 Thursday, April 22, 1756. 



Ergo hand difficile estperituram arcessere summam 
Laneibus oppositis, vel matris imagine fracta. Juv. 

Here to the spendthrift ready cash is lent. 
On plate, or rings, or watches, cent per cent : 
Here, from it's frame the enamell'd portrait drawn. 
The circling brilliants are received in pawn. 

I HAVE often amused myself with considering 
tlie mean and ridiculous shifts, to which the ex- 
travagant are sometimes reduced. When the 
certain supplies of a regular income are exhaust- 
ed, they are obliged to cast about for ready cash, 
and set the invention to work, in order to devise 
meank of repairing their finances. Such 
attempts to enlarge their revenue have frequently 
driven those, whose great souls would not be 
curbed by the straitness of their circumstances, 
into very uncommon undertakings : they have 
sent lords to Arthur's, and ladies to assemblies, 
or sometimes Avorse places. We may safely con- 
clude, that whoever breaks through all economy, 
will soon discard honesty ; though perhaps it 
might be deemed scandalum magnatum to aver, 
that prodigal men of quality have often sold 
their country to redeem their estates, and that 
extravagant ladies have been known to make up 
the deficiencies of their pin-money by pilfering 
and larceny. 

One of the first and chief resources of exti-a- 
vagance, both in high and low life, is the pa^vn- 
brokers. I never pass by one of these shops, 
^without considering them as the repositories of 
half the jewels, plate, &c. in town. It is true, 
indeed, that the honest and industrious are some- 
times forced to supply their necessities by this 
method : but if we were to inquire, to whom 
the several articles in these miscellaneous ware- 
houses belong, we should find the gi-eatest part 
of them to be the property of the idle and infa- 
mous among the vulgar, or the prodigal and 
luxurious among the gi-eat ; and if, in imitation 
of the ancients, who placed the temple of 
Honour behind the temple of Virtue, propriety 
should be attempted in the situation of pawu- 
brokei-s' shops, they would be placed contiguous 



to a gin-shop, as in the ingenious print of 
Hogarth, or behind a ta\ern gaming-house, or 
bagnio. 

Going home late last Saturday night, I was 
witness to a curious dialogue at the door of one 
of these houses. An honest journeyman car- 
penter, whose wife, it seems, had pawned his 
best clothes, having just received his week's pay, 
was come to redeem them ; but, it being past 
twelve o'clock, the man of the house, who kept 
up the conversation by means of a little grate in 
the door, refused to deliver them ; though the 
poor carpenter begged hard for his holiday 
clothes, as the morrow was Easter Sunday. 
This accident led me to reflect on the various 
persons in tovrn, who carry on this kind of 
commerce ^vith the pavrnbrokers, and gave occa- 
sion to the following dream, 

I was scarce asleep before 1 found myself at 
the entrance of a blind alley, terminated by a 
little hatch, where I saw a vast concourse of 
people, of different ages, sex, and condition, 
going in and coming, out. Some of these I 
observed, as they went up, very I'ichly drest ; 
and others were adorned with jewels and costly 
trinkets : but I could not help remarking, that 
at their return they were all divested of their 
finery ; and several had even their gowns and 
coats stript off their backs. A lady, who 
strutted up in a rich brocaded suit, sneaked back 
again in an ordinary stuff nigh t-go%vn ; a second 
retreated with the loss of a diamond solitaire 
and pearl necklace ; and a third, who had 
bundled up her whole stock of linen, scarce 
escaped Avlth what she had upon her back. I 
observed several gentlemen, who brought their 
sideboards of plate to be melted down, as it were, 
into current specie ; many had their pockets dis- 
burthened of their watciies ; and some, even 
among the military gentlemen, were obliged to 
deliver up their swords. Others of the com- 
pany marched up, heavy laden 'with pictures, 
household goods, and domestic utensils ; one 
carried a spit ; another brandished a gridiron ; 
a third flourished a frying-pan ; while a fourth 
brought to my remembrance the old sign of the 
dog's head in the porridge pot. I saw several 
trot up merrily with their chairs, tables, and 
other furniture : but I could not help pitying 
one poor creature among the rest, "vvho, after, 
having stript his own house, even to his feather 
bed, stalked along like a Lock-patient, wrapt up 
in the blankets, while his wife accompanied him 
doing penance in the sheets. I 

As I was naturally curious to see the inside 
of the receptacle, where all these various spoils 
were deposited, I stept up to the hatch ; and 
meeting a grave old gentleman at the threshold, 
I desired him to inform me w^hat place it Avas, 
and ^lat business was transacted there. He 
very courteously took me by the hand, and lead- 
ing me through a dark passage, brought me in|o 



200 



THE CONNOISSEUR 



[No. 117. 



a spacious hall, which he told me was the temple 
of usury, and that he himself was the chief 
priest of it. One part of this building was hung 
round with aU kinds of apparel, like the sale shops 
in Monmouth-street ; another was strewed with 
a variety of goods, and resembled the brokers' 
shops in Harp-alley ; and another part was fur- 
nished with such an immense quantity of jewels 
and rich plate, that I should rather have fancied 
myself in the church of the lady of Loretto. All 
these, my guide informed me, were the offerings 
of that crowd, which I had seen resorting to this 
temple. The churches in Roman Catholic 
countries have commonly a cross fixed upon 
them ; the Chinese erect dragons and hang bells 
about their pagods ; and the Turkish mosques 
have their peculiar hieroglyphics ; but 1 could 
not help taking particular notice, that this tem- 
ple of usury had its vestibule adorned with 
three wooden balls painted blue ; the mystery 
of which, I was told, Avas as dark and unfathom- 
able as the Pythagorean number, or the secret 
doctrines of Trismegist. 

When I had in some measure satisfied my 
curiosity, in taking a general survey of the tem- 
ple, my instructor led me to an interior corner 
of it, where the most splendid offerings w^ere 
spread upon a large altar. " This bauble," said 
he, showing me an elegant sprig of diamonds, 
" is an aigret, sent in last week by a lady of 
quality, who has ever since kept home, with her 
head muffled up in a double clout, for a pretend- 
ed fit of the tooth-ache. She has, at different 
times, made an offering of all her jewels : and, 
besides these, her whole wardrobe was very 
lately lodged here, which threw her into an 
hysteric fever, and confined her to herbed-gov/n 
for upwards of a month. Those ear-rings and 
other jewels are the j)araphernalia of a young 
bride ; who was so constant a votary to this 
place, that, when nothing else remained for an 
offering, she even brought in her wedding-ring. 
You may be surprised, perhaps, to behold such 
a variety of necklaces, girdle-buckles, solitaires, 
and other female ornaments, as are here collect- 
ed : but it is observable, that their devotions in 
the temple of usury have been chiefly encou- 
raged and kept alive by their assisting at the 
midnight orgies of avarice. 

" Nor are the gentlemen," continued he, "less 
encouragers of our rites. That gold watch lay 
snug for a considerable time, in the fob of a 
young man of quality : but it was one night 
jerked out by a single throw of the dice at a 
gaming-table, and made its way into the pocket 
of a stranger, who placed it here to keep com- 
pany with several others, brought hither on a 
similar occasion. Those brilliant buckles once 
glittered on the shoes of a very pretty fellow, 
who set out last Avinter on his travels into 
foreign parts, but never got further than Bou- 
logne : and that sword, Avith the rich fiUagree 



hilt and elegantly-fancied sword knot with gold 
tassels, once dangled at the side of a spirited 
buck ; who left it here two years ago, when he 
went off in a great huny, to take possession of 
a large estate in his native country, Ireland, 
whence he is not yet returned. You may see 
many others of these instruments of death, 
which rust peacefully in their scabbards, as be- 
ing of no use whatever to their owners ; that 
which commonly hangs upon the vacant peg 
there, belongs, you must know, to a noble cap- 
tain : it is called upon duty once a month, 
and is at this instant mounting guard at St. 
James's." 

Not far from these rich ornaments hung se- 
veral embroidered coats, laced waistcoats, jwint 
d'esjmgne hats, &c. " This suit," said my 
venerable instructor, pointing to one richly em- 
broidered, "was made up for a noble lord on 
the last birth-day, and conveyed hither the very 
next morning after it had appeared at court. 
That jemmy waistcoat with the gold worked 
button-holes, on the next peg, was the property 
of a smart templar, who, having spent a night 
out of his chambers, sent his waistcoat hither 
in the morning as a penitential offering, by hia 
landlady. As to that heap of camblet gowns, 
checked aprons, and coloured handkerchiefs, 
which you see strung together a little further 
off, they are oblations made here by a sect of 
maudlin votaries, who resort to this temple to 
pay their devotions to a goddess, whom they 
have christened Madam Gin, but whom they 
sometimes honour with the more proper appel- 
lation of Strip me Naked." 

While my conductor was thus relating the 
history of the various offerings, and persons 
who had made them, he was suddenly called 
aside to a dark closet; several of which were 
erected near the entrance, and appeared not 
unlike the confessionals of the Romish priests. 
These little boxes, I found, were appointed to 
receive the votaries, who came to pay their de- 
votions, and make their offerings : but the ne- 
cessary rites and cei'emonies were commonly 
solemnized with as much caution and privacy, 
as the mysteries of the Bojta Dea among the 
Romans. At present, however, there was a 
greater noise and hubbub than usual. A per- 
son of the first rank in the kingdom, who had 
made some very considerable oblations of gold 
and silver plate, was now about to celebrate a 
feast in honoiu" of Bacchus, in which these 
rich utensils would be requisite, on which occa- 
sion he prayed to have the use of them. The 
chief priest, after having received the customary 
fee, granted a dispensation for this purpose, and 
loaded the messengers with a number of wrought 
ewers, vases, and chargers ; at the same time 
commissioning two or three of the inferior offi- 
cials of the temple to atteud the celebration of 
the ftast, and to take care that the plate was 



No. lis.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



201 



duly returned, and safely lodged again in the 
temple. 

These matters were scarcely adjusted before 
an unexpected incident filled the whole temple 
with confusion and disturbance. A rude tribe 
of officers broke in upon us, put a stop to the 
rites, and seized the chief priest himself, charg- 
ing him with having profaned the place by a 
crime almost as infamous as sacrilege. He was 
accused of having encouraged robbers to strip the 
citizens of their most valuable effects, and for 
a small reward to deposit them as offerings. The 
clamour on this occasion was very great : and at 
last one of the officers, methought, seized me as 
a party concerned ; Avhen endeavouring to clear 
myself, and struggling to get out of his clutches, 
I awokcx W. 



No. 118.] Thursday, April 29, 1756. 



Hcsc stuUitia parit civitates, hac constant imperia, magistra- 
fus, religio, consilia, judicia, nee aUiid omnino est vita hu- 
mana, quam stultitia; lusus quidam. Erasm. 

Nonsense o'er empires and o'er states presides. 
Our judgment, counsels, laws, religion, guides j 
All arts and sciences despotic rules ; 
And life itself 's a drama, play'd by fools. 

There is no race of peopk, that has been more 
conspicuous, in almost every relation of life, than 
the illustrious family of Nonsense. In every age 
of the Avorld they have slione forth with uncom- 
mon lustre, and have made a wonderful progress 
in all the arts and sciences. They have at dif- 
ferent seasons delivered speeches from the throne, 
harangued at the bar, debated in parliament, and 
gone amazing lengths in philosophical inquu'ies 
and metaphysical disquisitions. In a word, the 
whole history of the world moral and political, 
is but a Cyclopaedia of Nonsense. For which 
reason, considering the dignity and importance 
of the family, and the infinite service it has been 
of to me and many of my contemporaries, I have 
resolved to oblige the public with a kind of ab- 
sti-act of the history of Nonsense. Nonsense was 
the daughter of Ignorance, begot on Falsehood, 
many ages ago, in a dark cavern in Boeotia. As 
she grew up, she inherited all the qualities of 
lier parents : she discovered too warm a genius 
to require being sent to school ; but while other 
dull brats ^vere poring over a horn-book, she 
amused herself with spreading fantastical lies, 
taught her by her mamma, and which have in 
latter ages been fiimiliarly known to us under 
the names of Sham, Banter, and Humbug. 
When she grew up, she received the addresses, 
and scon became the wife of Impudence. Who 
he was, or of what profession, is uncertain : 
some say he was the son of Ignorance by ano- 
ther venter, and was suffered to become the hus- 



band of Ncn-ense in those dark ages of tlie 
world, as the Ptolemies in Egypt married their 
own sisters. Some record, that he was in the 
anny : others, that he was an intei-preter of the 
laws ; and others, a divine. However this was, 
Nonsense and Impudence were soon inseparably 
united to each other, and became the founders of 
a more noble and numerous family, than any 
yet preserved on any tree of descent whatsoeA^er ; 
of which ingenious device they were said to have 
been the first inventors. 

It is my chief intent at present to record tht 
great exploits of that branch of the family, who 
have made themselves remarkable in England ; 
though they began to signalize themselves very 
early, and are still A'ery flourishing in most 
parts of the world. Many of them were Egj-p- 
tian priests four thousand years ago, and told 
the people, that it Avas religion to worship dogs, 
monkeys, and gi-een leeks : and their descen- 
dants prevailed on the Greeks and Romans to 
build temples iii honour of supposed deities, Avho 
were, in their own estimation of them, AA^hores 
and AA'horemongers, pick-pockets and drunkards. 
Others rose up some ages after in Turkey, and 
persuaded the people to embrace the doctrine of 
bloodshed and of the sword, in the name of the 
most merciful God ; and others have manifest- 
ed their lineal descent from Nonsense and Impu- 
dence, by affirming that there is no God at aU. 
There Avere also among them many shrewd phi- 
losophers ; some of whom, though they were 
racked with a fit of the stone, or laid up with a 
gouty toe, declared that they felt not the least 
degree of pain ; and others would not trust their 
own eyes, but AA'hen they saw a horse or a dog, 
could not tell Avhether it was not a chair or a 
table, and even made a doubt of their own exis- 
tence. 

V?"e have no certain account of the progress of 
Nonsense here in England, till after the Refor- 
mation. All we hear of her and her progeny 
before that period of time is, that they led a 
lazy life among the monks in cloisters and con- 
A'ents, dreaming OA-er old legends of saints, draw- 
ing up breviaries and mass-books, and stringing 
together some barbarous Latin A^erses in rhyme. 
In the days of Queen Elizabeth, so little encou- 
ragement was given to her family, that it seem- 
ed to have been almost extinct ; but in the suc- 
ceeding reign it flourished again, and filled the 
most considerable offices in the nation. Nonsense 
became a great faA'ourite atcoiu't, Avhereshe was 
highly caressed on account of her wit, which 
consisted in puns and quibbles ; and the bonny 
monarch himself was thought to take a more 
than ordinary delight in her couA^ersation. At 
this time many of her progeny took orders, and 
got themselves preferred to the best livings, by 
turning the Evangelists into punsters, and 
making St. Paul quibble from the pulpit. 
Among the rest, there was a bishop, a favoui- 
Dd 



202 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 119. 



ite son of Nonsense, of whom it is particular- 
ly recorded, that he used to ticlde his courtly 
audience by telling them that matrimony was 
become a matter of money, with many other 
right reverend jests recorded in Joe Miller. Seve- 
ral brothers of this family were likewise bred to 
the bar, and very gi-avely harangued against old 
women sucked by devils in the shape of ram-cats, 
&c. As an instance of their profound wisdom 
and sagacity, I need only mention that just and 
truly pious act of parliament made against the 
crying sin of witchcraft. I Jac. 1. chap. 12. 
" Such as shall use invocation or conjuration of 
any evil spirit, or shall consult, covenant with, 
entertain, employ, fee or reward any evil spirit 
to any intent, or take up any dead person, or 
part thereof, to be used in witchcraft, or have 
used any of the said arts, whereby any person 
shall be killed, consumed, or lamed in his or her 
body, they, together with their accessaries be- 
fore the fact, shall suffer as felons without bene- 
fit of clergy." 

In the troublesome times of King Charles the 
First, Nonsense and her family sided with the 
Parliament. These set up new sects in reli- 
gion : some of them cropt their hair short, and 
called themselves the enlightened ; some fell into 
trances, and pretended to see holy visions ; while 
others got into tubs, and held forth, with many 
■vvhinings, and groans, and snuffling through 
the nose. In the merry days of King Charles 
the Second, Nonsense assumed a more gay and 
libertine air ; and her progeny, from fanatics, 
became downright infidels. Several courtiers of 
the family wrote lewd plays, as well as luscious 
love-songs, ana other loose verses, which were col- 
lected together and greedily bought up in miscel- 
lanies. In the succeeding reign, some of the kin- 
dred, who had received their education at St. 
Omers, thought themselves on the point of esta- 
blishing Nonsense in church and state, and 
wei"e preparing to n\ake bonfires on the occasioo 
in Smithfield, when they were obliged to leave 
the kingdom. 

Since the Revolution, the field of politics has 
afforded large scope for Nonsense and her fami- 
ly to make themselves remarkable. Hence arose 
the various sects in party, distinguished by the 
names of Whig and Tory, Ministerial and Jaco- 
bite, Sunderlandians, Oxfordians, Godolphini- 
ans, Bolingbrokians, Walpolians, Pelhainians, 
&c. &c. &c. names which have kindled as hot a 
war in pamphlets and journals, as the Guelphs 
and Gibelines in Italy, or the Big and Little 
Endians in the kingdom of Lilliput. 

I have here endeavoured to give a short 
abridgment of the history of Nonsense ; though 
a vei-y small part of the exploits of the family 
can be included in so compendious a chronicle. 
Some of them were very deep scholars, and filled 
the professors' chairs at the universities. They 
composed many elaborate dissertations, to con- 



vince the world, that two and two make four • 
and discovered, by dint of syllogism, that white 
is not black. Their inquiries in natural philoso- 
phy were no less extraordinary ; many spent 
their lives and their fortunes in attempting to 
discover a wonderful stone, that should turn 
every baser metal into gold ; and others em- 
ployed themselves in making artificial wings, by 
the help of which they should fly up into the 
world of the moon. Another branch of the fa- 
mily took to the Belles Lettres, and were the 
ojiginal founders of the learned society of Grub- 
street. 

Never was any era in the annals of Nonsense 
more illustrious than the present : nor did that 
noble family ever more signally distinguish it- 
self in every occupation. In oratory, who are 
greater proficients than the progeny of Non- 
sense ? Witness many long and eloquent speeches 
delivered in St. Stephen's chapel, in Westmin- 
ster-hall, at assizes and quarter-sessions, at 
Clare-market, and the Robin Hood. In philo- 
sophy, what marvellous things have not been 
proved by Nonsense ? The sometime professor 
of astronomy at Gresham college, showed Sir 
Isaac Newton to be a mere ass, and wire-drawed 
the books of Moses into a complete system of 
natural philosophy : life-guardnien have, with 
the utmost certainty of Nonsense, foretold earth- 
quakes ; and others have penned curious essays 
on air-quakes, water-quakes, and comets. — In 
politic^, how successfully have the sons of Non- 
sense bandied about the terms of court and coun- 
try ? How wisely have they debated upon 
taxes ? And with what amazing penetration 
did they but lately foresee an invasion ? — In re- 
ligion, their domain is particularly extensive : 
for, though Nonsense is excluded, at least from 
the first part of the service, in all regular 
churches, yet she often occupies the whole cere- 
mony at the Tabernacle and Foundery in 3Ioor- 
fields, and the chapel in Long-acre. But, for 
the credit of so polite an age, be it known, that 
the children of Nonsense, who are many of theno 
people of fashion, are as often seen at the play- 
house as at church : and it is something strange, 
that the family of Nonsense is now divided 
against itself, and in high contest about the ma- 
nagement of their favourite amusement — the 



T. 



Opera. 



No. 119. Thursday, IVIay 6, 1756. 



Plcnus rinwrum sum, fitic et ilhtc perfluo. 

I.caky at bottom ; if those chiiiVf. v«):i s'op 
In vain :— the secret will run o'er the top. 

There is no mark of our confidence taken more 
kindly by a friend, than the intrusting him with 



No. 119.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



203 



a secret ; nor any which he is so likely to abuse. 
Confidants in general are like crazy fire-locks, 
which are no sooner charged and cocked, than 
the spring gives way, and the report immediate- 
ly follows. Happy to have been thought vrorthy 
the confidence of one friend, they are impatient 
to manifest their importance to another ; till be- 
tween them and their friend, and their friend's 
friend, the whole matter is presently known to 
all our friends round the Wrekin. The secret 
catches as it were by contact, and like electrical 
matter breaks forth from every link in the chain, 
almost at the same instant. Thus the whole 
Exchange may be thrown into a buzz to-morrow, 
by what was whispered in the middle of Marl- 
borough Downs this morning ; and in a week's 
time the streets may ring with the intrigue of a 
woman of fashion bellowed out from the foul 
mouths of the hawkers, though at present it is 
known to no creatiu'e living, but her gallant and 
her vraiting-maid. 

As the talent of secrecy is of so gi'eat impor- 
tance to society, and the necessary commerce be- 
tween individuals cannot be securely carried on 
without it, that this deplorable weakness should 
be so general is much to be lamented. You may 
as ■vvell pour water into a funnel, or a sieve, 
and expect it to be retained there, as commit any 
of your concerns to so slippery a companion. It 
is remarkable, that in those men who have thus 
lost the faculty of retention, the desire of being 
communicative is always most prevalent, where 
it is least to be justified. If they are intrusted 
with a matter of no great moment, affairs of 
miore consequence will perhaps in a few hours 
shuflfle it entirely out of their thoughts : but if 
any thing be delivered to them with an air of 
earnestness, a low voice, and the gesture of a 
man in terror for the consequence of its being 
known ; if the door is bolted, and every pre- 
caution taken to prevent a surprise ; however 
they may promise secrecy, and however they 
may intend it, the weight upon their minds will 
be so extremely oppressive, that it will certainly 
put their tongues in motion. 

This breach of trust, so universal amongst us, 
is pei'haps in great measure owing to our educa- 
tion. The first lesson our little masters and 
misses are taught, is to become blabs and tell- 
tales ; they are bribed to divulge the petty in- 
trigues of the family below stairs to papa and 
mamma in the parlour, and a doll or a hobby- 
horse is generally the encouragement of a pro- 
pensity, -which could scarcely be atoned for by a 
whipping. As soon as children can lisp out the 
little intelligence they have picked up in the hall 
or the kitchen, they are admired for their wit : 
if the butler has been caught kissing the house- 
keeper in his pantry, or the footman detected in 
romping with the chamber-maid, away flies 
little Tommy or Betsy with the news ; the 
parents are lost in admiration of the pretty I 



rogue's understanding, and reward such uncom- 
mon ingenuity with a kiss and a sugar-plum. 

Nor does an inclination to secrecy meet with 
less encouragement at school. The governantes 
at the boarding-school teach miss to be a good 
girl, and tell them every thing she knows ; thus, 
if any young lady is unfortunately discovered 
eating a gTeeu apple in a corner, if she is heard 
to pronounce a naughty word, or is caught 
picking the letters out of another miss's sampler, 
away runs the chit, who is so happy as to get 
the start of the rest, screams out her information 
as she goes ; and the prudent matron chucks her 
under the chin, and tells her that she is a good 
gii'l, and every body will love her. 

The management of our young gentlemen is 
equally absurd : in most of our schools, if a lad 
is discovered in a scrape, the impeachment of an 
accomplice, as at the Old Bailey, is made the 
condition of a pardon. I remember a boy, 
engaged in robbing an orchard, who w&s unfor- 
tunately taken prisoner in an apple-tree, and 
conducted, under a strong guard of the farmer 
and his dairy-maid, to the master's house. 
Upon his absolute refusal to discover his associ- 
ates, the pedagogue imdertook to lash him out of 
his fidelity, but finding it impossible to scourge 
the secret out of him, he at last gave him up for 
an obstinate villain, and sent him to his father, 
who told him he was ruined, and was going to 
disinherit him for not betraying his school- 
fellows. I must o^vn I am not fond of thus 
drubbing our youth into treachery ; and am 
much more pleased Tvith the request of Ulysses, 
when he went to Troy, who begged of those who 
ivere to have the charge of Telemachus, that 
they would, above all things, teach him to be 
just, sincere, faithful, and to keep a secret. 

Every man's experience must have furnished 
him with instances of confidants who are not to 
be relied on, and friends who are not to be 
trusted ; but few perhaps have thought it a 
character so well worth their attention, as to 
have marked out the different degrees into which 
it may be divided, and the different methods by 
vrhich secrets are communicated. 

Ned Trusty is a tell-tale of a very singular 
kind. Having some sense of his duty, he hesi- 
tates a little at the breach of it. If he engages 
never to utter a syllable, he most punctually 
performs his promise ; but then he has the knack 
of insinuating by a nod and a shrug well-timed, 
or a seasonable leer, as much as others can con- 
vey in express terms. It is difficult, in short, 
to determine, whether he is more to be admired 
for his resolution in not mentioning, or his inge- 
nuity in disclosing a secret. He is also excellent 
at a " doubtful phrase," as Hamlet calls it, or an 
" ambiguous giving out ;" and his conversation 
consists chiefly of such broken inuendoes, as 

Well, I know — or, I could — an if I would — 

Or, if I list to speak — or, there be, and if there might, &c. 



204? 



Here he generally stops; and leaves it to his 
hearers to draw proper inferences from these 
piece-meal premises. With due encouragement, 
however, he may be prevailed upon to slip the 
padlock from his lips, and immediately ovei-- 
whelms you with a torrent of secret history, 
which rushes forth with more violence for having 
been so long confined. 

Poor Meanwcll, though he never falls to 
transgress, is rather to be pitied than condemned. 
To trust him with a secret is to spoil his appe- 
tite, to break his rest, and to deprive Jiim for a 
time of every earthly enjoyment. Like a man 
who travels with his whole fortune in his pock- 
et, he is terrified if you approach him, and im- 
mediately suspects, that you come with a feloni- 
ous intent to rob him of his charge. If he ven- 
tures abroad, it is to walk in some unfrequented 
place, where he is least in danger of an attack. 
At home, he shuts himself «p from his family, 
paces to and fro in his chamber, and has no re- 
lief but from muttering over to himself, what he 
longs to publish to the world ; and would gladly 
submit to the office of town-crier, for the liberty 
of proclaiming it in the market-place. At 
length, however, weary of his burden, and re- 
solved to bear it no longer, he consigns it to the 
custody of the first friend he meets, and returns 
to his wife with a cheerful aspect, and wonder- 
fully altered for the better. 

Careless is perhaps equally undesigning, 
though not equally excusable. Intrust him with 
an affair of the utmost importance, on the con- 
cealment of which your fortune and happiness 
depend : he hears you with a kind of half at- 
tention, Avhistles a favourite air, and accompa- 
nies it with the drumming of his fingers upon 
the table. As soon as your narration is ended, 
or perhaps in the middle of it, he asks your 
opinion of his sword-knot, damns his tailor for 
having dressed him in a snuff-coloured coat, in- 
stead oi s. pompadour, and leaves you in haste to 
attend an auction ; where, as if he meant to dis- 
pose of his Intelligence to the best bidder, he di- 
vulges it, with a voice as loud as the aucitioneer's ; 
and when you tax him with having played you 
false, he is heartily sorry for it, but never knew 
that it was to be a secret. 

To these I might add the character of the 
open and unreserved who thinks it a breach of 
friendship to conceal any thing from his inti- 
mates ; and the impertinent, who having by dint 
of observation made himself master of your se- 
cret, imagines he may lawfully publish the 
knowledge it has cost him so much labour to ob- 
tain, and considers that privilege as the reward 
due to his industry. But 1 shall leave these, 
with many other characters, which my reader's 
own experience may suggest to him, and con- 
clude with prescribing, as a short remedy ior 
this evil,— That no man may betray the counsel 
")f his friend, let every man keep his o;vn. 



THE CONNOISSEUR. [No. 120. 

No. 120.] Thursday, May 13, 1756. 



Judicium subtile videndis artlbus. HoK. 

A subtile fancy, and a judgment chaste. 
Form the nice mixture of a genuine taste. 

Taste is at present the darling idol of the y/oHte 
world, and the world of letters ; and, indeed, 
seems to be considered as the quintessence of al- 
most all the arts and sciences. The fine ladies 
and gentlemen dress with taste ; the architects, 
whether Gothic or Chinese, build with taste ; 
the painters paint with taste ; the poets write 
with taste ; critics read with taste ; and, in 
short, fiddlers, players, singers, dancers, and me- 
chanics themselves, are all the sons and daugh- 
ters of Taste. Yet in this amazing superabun- 
dancy of taste, few can say what it really is, or 
what the word itself signifies. Should I at- 
tempt to define it in the style of a Connoisseur, 
I must run over the names of all the famous 
poets, painters, and sculptors, ancient and mo- 
dern ; and after having pompously harangued 
on the excellencies of Appelles, Phidias, Praxi- 
teles, Angelo, Rubens, Poussin, and Domini- 
chino, with a word or two on all tasteful com- 
positions, such as those of Homer, Virgil, Tasso, 
Dante, and Ariosto, I should leave the reader 
in wonder of my profound erudition, and as lit- 
tle informed as befoie. But as deep learning, 
though more flf.ming and pompous, is perhaps 
not always so useful as common sense, I shall 
endeavour to get at the true meaning of the 
worA taste, by considering what it usually im- 
ports in familiar writings and ordinary conver- 
sation. 

It is supposed by Locke, and other close rea- 
soners, that words are intended as signs of oar 
ideas : but daily experience will convince us, that 
words are often used to express no ideas at all. 
Thus many persons, who talk perpetually of 
taste, throw it out as a mere expletive, without 
any meaning annexed to it. Bardolj)h, when 
demanded the meaning of the word accommo- 
dated, wisely explains it by saying, that " accom- 
modated, sir, is — a — a — a — accommodated. Sir, 
is as if one should say — a — accommodated :" and 
if, in like manner, you ask one of these people, 
What is taste ? they will tell you that " taste is 
a kind of a sort of a — a — a — ; in short, taste is 
taste." These talkers must be considered as ab- 
solute blanks in conversation, since it is impos- 
sible to learn the explanation of a term from 
them, as they fix no determinate meaning to any 
expression. 

Among men of sense, whose words carry 
meaning in their sound, taste is commonly used 
in one of these two significations. First, when 
they give any person the appellation of a man of 
taste, they would intimate that he has a turn 



No. liJO.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



205 



for the polite arts, as well as the lesser elegan- 
cies of life ; and that from his natural bent to 
those studies, and his acquired knowledge in 
them, he is capable of distinguishing what is 
good or bad in any thing of that kind submit- 
ted to his judgment. The meaning at other 
times implied by a man of taste is, that he is 
not only so far adept in those matters as to be 
able to judge of them accurately, but is also pos- 
sessed of the faculty of executing them grace- 
fully. These two significations will, perhaps, 
be more easily conceived, and clearly illustrated, 
when applied to our sensual taste. The man of 
taste, according to the first, may be considered 
as a boil vivant, who is fond of the dishes before 
him, and distinguishes nicely what is savoury 
and delicious, or flat and insipid, in the ingre- 
dients of each : according to the second, he may 
be regarded as the cook, who from knowing what 
things will mix well together, and distinguish- 
ing by a nice taste when he has arrived at that 
happy mixture, is able to compose such exquisite 
dishes. 

Both these significations of the word will be 
found agTeeable to the following definition of it, 
which I have somewhere seen, and is the only 
just description of the term, that I ever remem- 
ber to have met with : ' Taste consists in a nice 
harmony between the fancy and the judgment.' 
The most chastised judgment, without genius, 
can never constitute a man of taste ; and the 
most luxuriant imagination, unregulated by 
judgment, will only carry us into wild and ex- 
travagant deviations fiom it. To mix oil, vine- 
gar, butter, milk, eggs, &c. incoherently to- 
gctlier, would make an olio not to be relished by 
any palate : and the man who has no gout for 
delicacies himself, will never compose a good 
dish, though he should ever so strictly adhere to 
the rules of La Cliapelle, Hannah Glasse, and 
Martha Bradley. I confine myself at present ' 
chiefly to that signification of the word, which ! 
implies the capacity of exerting our own facul- i 
ties in the several branches of taste, because that j 
always includes the other. 

Having thus settled what taste is, it may not ' 
be unentertaining to examine modern taste by 
these rules : and, perhaps it will appear, that on ' 
the one hand, its most pleasing flights and ra- I 
vishing elegancies are extravagant and absurd ; ] 
and that, on the other hand, those who afi'ect a ! 
correct taste in all their undertakings, proceed 
mechanically, without genius. The first species 
of taste, which gives a loose to the imagination, ' 
indulges itself in caprice, and is perpetually 
striking new strokes, is the chief regulator of 
the fashion. In dress, it has put hunting-poles 
into the hands of our gentlemen, and erected 
coaches and windmills on the heads of our ladies. 
In equipage, it has built chariots o( papier viache, 
and by putting spotted Danish horses into the 
harness, has made om* beaux look like Bacchus 



in his car drawn by leopards. The ornaments, 
both on the outside and inside of our houses, are 
all Gothic or Chinese ; and whoever makes a 
pagod of his parlour, throws a plank or two with 
an irregular crossed-barred paling over a dirty 
ditch, or places battlements on a root-house or a 
stable, fits up his house and garden entirely in 
taste. 

The second sort of men of taste are to be 
found chiefly among the literati ; and are those 
who, despising the modern whims to which 
fashion has given the name of taste, pretend to 
follow, with the most scrupulous exactness, the 
chaste models of the ancients. These are the 
poets, who favo'or us with correct, epithetical, 
and tasteful compositions ; whose works are 
without blemish, and conformable to the pre- 
cise rules of Quintilian, Horace, and Aristotle: 
and as they are intended merely for the perusal 
of persons of the most refined taste, it is no 
wonder that they are above the level of common 
understandings. These too are the critics, who, 
in their comments upon authors, embarrass us 
with repeated allusions to the study of virtu : 
and these too are the Connoisseurs in architec- 
ture, who build ruins after Vetruvius, and ne- 
cessaries according to Palladio. One gentlem.an 
of this cast has built his villa upon a bleak hill, 
with four spacious porticos, open on each side to 
court the four winds : because in the sultry re- 
gions of Italy, this model has been thought 
most convenient : and another has in great 
measure shut out the light from his apartments, 
and cut off all prospect from his windows, by 
erecting a high wall before his house, which in 
Italy has been judged necessary to screen them 
from the sun. 

Architecture seems indeed to be the mean ar- 
ticle, in which the efforts of sin are now dis- 
played. Among those who are fond of exerting 
their fancies in capricious innovations, I might 
instance the many pretty whims, of which an 
infinite variety may be seen within ten miles of 
London. But as a proof of the noble and ju- 
dicious taste among us, I shall beg leave to de- 
scribe in the style of a Connoisseur, a most a- 
mazing curiosity, erected in a very polite quar- 
ter of this town. 

In the midst of a noble and spacious area 
stands a grand obelisk. The base forms a per- 
fect square with right angles ; the body of it is 
cylindrical ; but the capital is a heptagon, and 
has several curious lines and figures described 
on each of its seven planes or superfices, which 
serve to terminate as many most magnificent 
and striking vistas. This superb column, no 
less remarkakle than the famous pillar of Trajan, 
seems (from the several gnomons and other 
hieroglyphics stuck about it) to have been origin- 
ally dedicated to the sun ; but is now known a- 
mong the Vulgar by the more common name of 
the Seven Dials. O. 



206 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 121. 



No. 121. Thursday, Mat 20, 1756. 



-Placet impares 



Formas atqiie animos sitbjuga ahenea 
Scevo mittere cumjoco HoR. 

Officious couplers wantonly engage 
Virtue with vice, brisk youth with frozen age : 
Behold them groan beneath the iron yoke. 
Hail the dear mischief, and enjoy the joke. 

Though I shall not as yet vouchsafe to let the 
reader so far into my secrets, as to inform him 
■whether I am married or single, it may not be 
amiss to acquaint him, that, supposing I still 
remain a bachelor, it has not been the fault of 
my friends or relations. On the contrary, as 
soon as I was what they call settled in the 
world, they were so assiduous in looking out a 
wife for me, that nothing was required on my 
part but immediately to fall in love with the 
lady they had pitched upon : and could I have 
complied with their several choices, I should 
have been married at the same time to a tall 
and a short, a plump and a slender, a young 
and an old woman ; one with a great deal of 
money, and another with none at all : each of 
Avhom was separately recommended by them, 
as the properest person in the world for me. 

I know not how it happen*!, but it is noto- 
rious, that most people take a pleasure in making 
matches; either thinking matrimony a state of 
bliss, into which they would charitably call 
all their friends and acquaintance ; or perhaps 
struggling in the toils, they are desirous of 
drawing others into the net that ensnared them. 
Many matches have been brought about be- 
tween two persons, absolute strangers to each 
other, through this kind mediation of friends, 
who are always ready to take upon tliem the 
office of an honourable go-between. Some have 
come together, merely from having been talked 
of by their acquaintance as likely to make a 
match ; and I have known a couple, who have 
met by accident at a horse-race, or danced to- 
gether at an assembly, that in less than a fort- 
night have been driven into matrimony in their 
own defence, by having been first paired in pri- 
vate conversations, and afterwards in the com- 
mon newspapers. 

As we cannot insure happiness to our friends, 
it the same time that we help them to husbands 
jr wives, one would imagine that few would 
sare to run the hazard of bestowing misery, 
where they meant a kindness. I know a good- 
natured lady, who has officiously brought upon 
herself the ill-will and the curses of many of 
her dearest and most intimate friends on this 
very account. She has a sister, for whom she 
provided a most excellent husband, who l)as 
shown his affection for her , by spending her 
whole fortune upon his mistresses ; she contriv- 



ed that another near relation should snap up a 
rich widow, who was arrested for her debts 
within a week after marriage : and it cost her 
a whole twelve-month to bring two doating 
lovers of her acquaintance together, who part- 
ed beds before the honey-moon was expired. 

But if our friends will thus condescend to be 
match-makers from a spirit of ben'tevolence, and 
for our own advantage only ; there are others, 
who have taken up the profession from less 
disinterested motives; who bring beauty and 
fortune to market, and trafic in all the accom- 
plishments that can make the marriage state 
happy. These traders dispose of all sorts of 
rich heirs and heiresses, baronets, lords, ladies 
of fashion, and daughters of country squires, 
with as much coolness as drovers sell bullocks. 
They keep complete registers of the condition 
and qualifications of all the marriageable per- 
sons within the kingdom ; and it is as common to 
apply to them for a husband or wife, as to the 
register-offices for a man or a maid servant. 
They may, indeed, be considered as fathers and 
guardians to the greatest part of our yotith of 
both sexes, since in marriage they nriay be most 
properly said to give them away. 

It is something comical to consider the va- 
rious persons, to whom men of this profession 
are useful. We may naturally suppose, that a 
young fellow, who has no estate, but Avhat, like 
Tinsel's in the Drummei', is merely personal, 
would be glad to come down handsomely, after 
consummation with a woman of fortune ; and 
a smart girl, who has more charms than wealth, 
would give round poundage on being taken for 
better for worse by a rich heir. IMaiiy a trades- 
man also wants a wife to manage his family, 
while he looks after the shop; and thinks it 
better to recommend himself by this convenient 
friend than by means of the Daily Advertiser. 
There are also several young people, who are 
indifferent as to any person in particular, and 
have no passion for the state itself, yet want to 
be married, because it will deliver them from 
the restraint of parents. But the most unna- 
tural, though very common aj)plications of this 
sort, are from the rich and the noble ; who, 
having immense estates to bestow on their chil- 
dren, will make use of the meanest instruments, 
to couple them to others of the same overgrown 
fortune. 

I have known many droll accidents happen 
from the mistakes of these mercenary match- 
makers, and remember one in i»articular, which 
I shall here set down for the entertainment of 
my readers. A careful old gentleman came up 
from the North on purpose to marry his son, 
and was recommended by one of these couplers 
to a twenty thousand pounder. He accordingly 
put on his best wig, best beaver, and gold- 
buttoned coat, and went to pay his respects 
to the lady's mamma. He told her, that he 



No. 122.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



20: 



had not the pleasure of heing known to her : 
but as his son's quiet depended on it, he had 
taken the liberty of waiting on her: in short, 
he immediately broke the matter to her, 
and informed her, that his boy had seen 
her daughter at church, and was violently in 
love with her ; concluding, that he would do 
very handsomely for the lad, and would make it 
worth her while to have him. The old lady 
thanked him for the honour he intended her fa- 
mily ; but she supposed, to be sure, as he appear- 
ed to be a prudent and sensible gentleman, he 
would expect a fortune answerable. " Say no- 
thing of that. Madam, say nothing of that," in- 
terrupted the Don : " I have heard — but if it 
Avas less, it should not break any squares between 
us." — " Pray, Sir, how much does the world 
say?" replied the lady. — " Why, Madam, I sup- 
pose she has not less than twenty thousand 
pounds." — " Not so much, Sir," said the old 
lady, verj' gravely. — " Well, Madam, I suppose 
then it may be nineteen, or — or — only eighteen 
thousand pounds," — " Not so much, Sir," — 
" Well, well, perhaps not : but — if it was only 
seventeen thousand." — " No, Sir," — " Or six- 
teen." — "No." — " Or (we must make allowan- 
ces) perhaps but fifteen thousand." — " Not so 
much. Sir." — Here ensued a profound silence 
for near a minute ; when the old gentleman, 
rubbing his forehead, " Well, Madam, we must 
come to some conclusion. Pray, is it less than 
fourteen thousand ! How much more is it than 
twelve thousand !" — " Less Sir," — " Less, Ma- 
dam ?"—" Less." — " But is it more than ten 
thousand?" — "Not so much, Sir."— "Not so 
much, Madam?"—" Not so much." — " Why, if 
it is lodged in the funds, consider, Madam, inter- 
est is low, very low : but, as the boy loves her, tri- 
fles shall not part us. Has she got eight thousand 
pounds ?" — " Not so much, Sir." — " Why then, 
Madam, perhaps the young lady's fortime may 
not be above six — or five thousand pounds." — 
" Nothing like it. Sir." — At these words the old 
gentleman started from his chair, and running 
out of the room — " Your servant, your servant : 
my son is a fool : and the felloTT, who recom- 
mended me to you, is a blockhead, and knows 
nothing of business." 



No. 122.] Thursdat, May 27, 1756. 



Monstrum nulla virtute redem-ptum 

A viHis JuY. 

Without one sneaking virtue in thy train, 

O precious villain ! scoundrel ! rogue in grain ! 

I MENTIONED in a former paper, that a friend of 
mine was writing A New Treatise on Ethics, 
or A System of Immoral Philosophy, compiled 



from the principles and practice of the present 
age ; in which the extraordinary modesty of the 
moderns would be enlarged on, which has indu- 
ced them to comprehend all the vices, instead of 
virtues, in their idea of a fine gentleman. The 
work is now finished ; and the author has sent 
me the following letter concerning the dedication, 
with leave to submit it to the public. 

Dear Town, 

The flatness and fulsome insipidity of dedica- 
tions has often been the subject of our conversa- 
tion ; and Ave have always agreed, that authors 
have miscarried in these pieces of flattery, by 
injudiciously affronting, when they meant to 
compliment their patrons. The humble dedica- 
tor loads his great man with virtues totally 
foreign to his nature and disposition, which sit 
as awkwardly upon him, as lace or embroidery 
on a chimney-sweeper ; and so overvrhelms him 
with the huge mass of learning, with which he 
graciously dubs him a scholar, that he makes as 
ridiculous a figure, as the ass in the Dunciad. 
After having thus bepraised his patron, till the 
new Mfficenas is heartily ashamed of himself, he 
wonders that no notice is taken of so pompous 
an eulogium, and that a dedication should be as 
mere a drug as a sermon. 

Lory, in the Relapse, advises Fashion to get 
into the good graces of Lord Foppington, by fall- 
ing in love with his coat, being in raptures Avith 
his peruke, seeming ravished with the genteel 
dangle of his sword knot ; and, in short, to re- 
commend himself to his noble elder brother, by 
affecting to be capti\ated with his favourites. 
In like manner, the author wlio would make his 
dedication really A^aluable, should not talk to his 
patron of his honour, and virtue, and integi'ity, 
and a pack of unfashionable qualities^ which on- 
ly serve to disgrace a fine gentleman; but boldly 
paint him what he really is, and at the same 
time conA'ince him of his merit in being a fool, 
and his glory in being a scoundrel. This mode of 
dedication, though proper at all times, will ap- 
pear AA'ith a particular good grace before A Sys- 
tem of Immoral Philosophy : wherefore, as my 
book is noAv finished, I haAe here sent you a 
rougli draught of the epistle dedicatory, and shall 
be glad to hear your opinion of it. 

May it please your Grace ! or, my Lord ! or, Sir ! 

You are in eA'ery point so complete a fine gen- 
tleman, that the folloAving Treatise is but a faint 
transcript of your accomplishments. There is 
not one qualification, requisite in the character 
of a man of spirit, Avhich you do not possess. 
Give me leaA^e, therefore, on the present occasion 
to point forth your inestimable qualities to the 
Avorld, and hold up to the public vieAv so glori- 
ous an example. 

You distinguished yourself so early in life, 
and exalted- yourself so far above the common 



208 



THE CONNOISSEUR, 



[No. 123. 



pitch of vulgar bucks, that you was distinguish- 
ed, before the age of twenty, with the noble ap- 
pellation of Stag: and Avhen I consider the many 
gallant exploits you have performed, the number 
of rascally poltroons you have sent out of the 
world, the number of pretty little foundlings you 
have brought into it, how many girls you have 
debauched, how many women of qualitj' you have 
intrigued with, and how many hogsheads of 
French wine have run through your body, I 
cannot help contemplating you as a Stag of the 
first head. 

What gi-eat reason have you to value yourself 
on your noble achievements at Arthur's ! The 
sums you formerly lost, and those you have 
lately won, are amazing instances of your spirit 
and address : first, in venturing so deeply, before 
5'^ou was let into the secret ; and then, in manag- 
ing it with so much adroitness and dexterity, 
since you have been acquainted with it. Nobody 
cogs the dice, or packs the cards, half so skil- 
fully : you hedge a bet with uncommon nicety, 
and ai*e a most incomparably shrewd judge of 
the odds. 

Nor have your exploits on the turf rendered 
you less famous. Let the annals of Pond and 
Heber deliver down to posterity the glorious 
account of what plates you have won, Avhat 
matches you made, and how often the knowing 
ones have been taken in ; when, for private rea- 
sons, you have found it necessary, that your 
horse should run on the Avrong side of the post, 
or be distanced, after winning the first heat. I 
need not mention your own skill in horseman- 
ship, and in how many matches you have con- 
descended to ride yourself ; for in this particu- 
lar, it must be acknowledged, you cannot be out- 
done, even by your groom or jockey. 

All the world will witness the many instances 
of your courage, which has been often tried and 
exerted in Hyde Park, and behind Montague 
house : nay, you have sometimes been known to 
draw your s^vord most heroically at the opera, 
the play, and even at private routs and assem- 
blies. Plow often have you put to flight a whole 
army of watchmen, constables, and beadles, 
with the justices at their head ! You have clear- 
ed a w^hole bawdy-house before, you, and taken 
many a tavern by storm : you have pinned a 
waiter to the ground ; and have, besides, proved 
yourself an excellent marksman, by shooting a 
post-boy flying. With so much valour and 
firmness, it is not to be doubted, but that you 
would behave with the same intrepidity, if occa- 
sion called, upon Hounslow-IIeath, or in 
Maidenhead-Thicket: and, if it were necessary, 
you Avould as boldly resign yourself up to the 
hands of Jack Ketch, and swing as genteelly, as 
Maclean or Gentleman Harry. The same 
noble spirit would likewise enable you to aim the 
pistol at your own head, and go out of the world 
like a man of honour and a gentleman. 



But your covirage has not rendered you unsus- 
ceptible of the softer passions, to which your 
heart has been ever inclined. To say nothing of 
your gallantries with women of fiisliion, your 
intrigues with milliners and mantua-makers, or 
your seducing raw country girls and innocent 
tradesmen's daughters, you have formerly been 
so constant in your devoirs to Mrs. Douglas, and 
the whole sisterhood, that you sacrificed your 
health and constitution in their service. But 
above all, witness that sweet delicate creature, 
whom you have now in keeping, and for whom 
you entertain such a strong and faithful passion, 
that for her sake, you have tenderly and aflfec- 
tionately deserted your wife and family. 

Though, from your elegant taste for pleasures, 
you appear made for the gay world ; yet these 
polite amusements have not called off your atten- 
tion from the more serious studies of politics and 
religion. In politics you have made such a 
wonderful proficiency, both in theory and prac- 
tice, that you have discovered the good of your 
country, to be a mere joke, and confirmed your 
own interest, as well as established your conse- 
quence, in the proper place, by securing half a 
dozen boroughs. As to religion, you soon 
unravelled every mysteiy of that ; and not only 
know the Bible to be as romantic as the Alcoran, 
but have also A'saitten several volumes, to make 
your discoveries plain to meaner capacities. The 
ridiculous prejudices of a foolish world unhap- 
pily prevent your publishing them at present : 
but you have wisely provided, that they shall 
one day see the light ; Avhen, I doubt not, they 
will be deemed invaluable, and be as universally 
admired, as the posthimious works of Lord 
Bolingbroke. 

I am, 
May it please your Grace ! or, my Lord ! or Sir • 
in liumble admiration of your excellences, 

O. &C. &c. &c. 



No. 123.] Thursday, June 23, 17o& 



Quo patre sit naius, num ignotd tnaire inhonastusf 

HoR. 

Say, who can claim the foundling for her son ? 
My Lord, and Molly ? or, her Grace and John ? 

The notices in the public papers, that the 
Foundling Hospital will be open for the recep- 
tion of infants in general under a certain age, 
have, I find, given universjil satisfaction. The 
consequences of a big belly do not appear so 
dreadful as heretofore : and it was but yesterday 
that a young fellow of intrigue told me, he was 
happy that his children would no longer be 
thrown out of the hospital, as he himself had 
been out of Arthur's, by bl:uk balls. For my 
p;\rt, though I have no ludy in keeping, no child 



123."] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



209 



oiy hotisekeeper, noi" any other affair of 

f^^ .1; mtry on my hands, which makes me wish to 

B\\< II tlie number of infants maintained by that 

oh 1 ity, I must own myself to be exceedingly 

rey iced at the extension of so benevolent a design. 

I look upon it as the certain preservation of 

many hundreds in embryo : nor shall we now 

he- !• of so many helpless babes birth-strangled in 

cessary, or smothered by the " ditch-delivered 

'." As a bastard is accounted in law, quassi 

':...iusjilius, tiie child of nobody, and related to 

noitody, and yet is blessed with as fair propor- 

tio 8, and capable of an equal degree of perfec- 

tioi-' with "honest madam's issue," it is sui'ely 

;■ ict of great humanity thus to rescue them 

n untimely deaths and other miseries, which 

' do not merit, whatever may be the guilt of 

r parents. 

'liough it is obvious, that this hospital will be 
^uiAe the receptacle of many legitimate chil- 
Aren ; it is no less certain, that the rich, as well 
he poor, w^ill often send their baseborn bant- 
s to this general nurser5^ The wealthy man 
i«r juality, or substantial cit, may have their pri- 
vaii' family reasons for not owning the fruits of 
their secret amours, and be glad to put the little 
living witness of their intrigues out of the way. 
For this reason, a history of the foundlings re- 
ceived there would be very curious and enter- 
taining, as it would contain many anecdotes, not 
to be learned from any parish register. The re- 
flections that passed in my mind on this subject, 
gave occasion the other evening, to the folio mng 
dream. 

Methought, as I was standing at the private 
door of the hospital, where a crowd of females 
(each of them with a child in her arms) were 
pressing to get in, an elderly gentleman, who, 
from his white staff, I took to be a governor of 
the charity, very courteously invited me to come 
in. I accepted his ofl^jr ; and having seated 
myself near him, " Mr. Town," says he, " 1 
am conscious, that you look upon most of these 
little infants as the offsprings of so many un- 
married fathers and maiden mothers, which 
have been clandestinely smuggled into the 
world. Know then, that I am one of those 
guardian Genii, appointed to superintend the 
fortunes of bastards ; therefore, as this hospital 
is more immediately under my tuition, I have 
put on this disguise; and if you please, will let 
you into the secret history of those babes who 
are my wards, and their parents." 

I assured him, his intelligence would be high- 
ly agreeable ; and several now coming up to of- 
fer their children he resumed his discourse. 
*' Observe," said he, " that jolly little rogue, 
with plump cheeks, a florid complexion, blue 
eyes, and sandy locks. We have here already 
several of his brethren by the mother's side ; 
some fair, some brown, and some black ; and yet 
they are all supposed to have come by the same 



father. The mother has for many years been 
housekeeper to a gentleman, who cannot see that 
her children bear the marks of his own servants, 
and that this very brat is the exact resemblance 
of his coachman. 

" That puling, whining infant there, with 
a pale face, emaciated body, and distorted limbs, 
is the forced product of viper broth and cantha- 
rides. It is the offspring of a worn-out buck of 
quality, who, at the same time he debauched the 
mother, ruined her constitution by a filthy dis- 
ease ; in consequence of which, she, w^ith much 
difficultj'^, brought forth this just image of him- 
self in miniature. 

" The next that offers is the issue of a careful 
cit ; who, as he keeps a horse for his own rid- 
ing on Sundays, which he lets out all the rest of 
the week, keeps also a mistress for his recreation 
on the seventh day, who lets herself out on the 
other six. That other babe owes his birth like- 
wise to the city : but is the joint product, as we 
may say, of two fathers : who being great eco- 
nomists in their pleasures, as well as in their 
business, have set up a whore and a one-horse 
chaise in partnership together. 

" That pert young baggage there, who so bold- 
ly presses forward with her brat, is not the mo- 
ther of it, but is maid to a single lady of the 
strictest honour and unblemished reputation. 
About a twelvemonth ago, her mistress went to 
Bath for the benefit of her health ; and ten 
months after she travelled into North Wales to 
see a relation : from whence she is just returned. 
We may suppose, that she took a fancy to that 
pretty babe, while in the country, and brought 
it up to town with her, in order to place it here : 
as she did a few years ago to another charming 
boy, which being too old to begot into this hos- 
pital is now at a school in "Yorkshire, where 
young gentlemen are boarded, clothed and edu- 
cated, and found in all necessaries, for ten pounds 
a year. 

" That chubby little boy, which you see in the 
arms ot yonder strapping wench in a camblet 
gown and red cloak, is her own son. She is by 
profession a bed maker in one of the Universi- 
ties, and of the same college, in which the father 
(a grave tutor) holds a fellowship, under the 
usual condition of not marrying. Many sober 
gentlemen of the cloth, who are in the same 
scrape, are glad to take the benefit of this chari- 
ty : and if all of the same reverend order, like 
the priests abroad, were laid under the same re- 
strictions, you might expect to see a particular 
hospital, erected for the reception of the sons of 
the clergy. 

" That next child belongs to a sea-captain's 
lady, whose husband is expected to return every 
moment from along voyage; the fears of which 
have happily hastened the birth of this infant 
a full month before its time. That other is the 
posthumous child of a wealthy old gentleman, 
Ee 



210 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 124. 



who married a young girl for love, and died in 
the honey-moon. This, his son and heir, was 
not born till near a twelvemonth after his de- 
cease, because its birth was I'etarded by the exces- 
sive gi-ief of his widow; who, on that account 
rather chose to lie-in privately, and to lodge 
their only child here, than to have its legitimacy 
and her own honour called in question by her 
husband's relations. 

My companion pointed out to me several 
others, whose original was no less extraordinary ; 
among which, I remember he told me, one was 
the unhallowed brood of a Methodist teacher, and 
another the premature spawn of a maid of ho- 
noui\ A poor author eased himself of a A^ery 
heavy load of two twin daughters, which, in an 
evil hour he begot on a hawker of pamphlets, 
after he had been writing a luscious novel ; but 
I could not help smiling at the marks sent in 
with these new Muses, signifying, that one had 
been christened Terpsichore, and the other 
Polyhymnia. Several bantlings were imported 
from Islington, Hoxton, and other villages 
within the sound of Bow bell : many were 
transplanted hither out of the country ; and a 
Avhole litter of brats were sent in from two or 
three parishes in particulai', for which it is 
doubtful whether they were most indebted to 
the Parson or the Squire. 

A modest looking woman now brought a very 
fine babe to be admitted ; but the governors re- 
jected it, as it appeared to be above two months 
old. The mother on the contrary, persisting in 
affirming, that it was but just born ; and ad- 
dressing herself to me, desired me to look at it. 
I accordingly took it in my arms ; and while I 
was tossing it up and down, and praising its 
beauty, the sly hussy contrived to slip away, 
leaving the precious charge in my care. The 
efforts which I made to bawl after her, and the 
squalling of the brat, which rung piteously in 
my ears, luckily awaked me ; and I was very 
happy to find, that I had only been dandling my 
pillow, instead of a bantling. W. 

No. 124.] Thursday, June 10, 1756. 



Accipe, perlongos tibi qui deserviat annos : 

Accipe, qui pura norit amare fide. 
Est nuUi cessura fides ; sine criinine mores ; 

Nudaque simpUcitas, pnrpureusqiie ptidor. 
Non miki mille placcnt ; non mm destiltor mnorit ; 

Tu miki fsi qua fides) extra percnnis cris. Ovid. 

Scorn me not, Chloe ; mo, whose faith well try'd 
Long years approve, and honest passions guide : 
My spotless soul no foul affections move. 
But chaste simplicity, and modest love ; 
Nor I, like shallow fops, from fair to fair 
Roving at random, faithless passion swear ; 
But thou alone shalt be my constant care. 

Almost every man is or has been, or at least 



thinks that he is or has been a lover. One has 
fought for his mistress, another drank for her, 
another wrote for her, and another has done all 
three: and yet, perhaps, in spite of their duels, 
poetry, and bumpers, not one of them ever enter- 
tained a sincere passion. 1 have lately taken a 
survey of the numerous tribe of Enamoratop, 
and after having observed the various shapes 
they wear, think I may safely pronounce that, 
though all profess to have been in love, there 
are very few who are really capable of it. 

It is a maxim of Kochefoucault's, that, 
"many men would never have been in love, if 
they had never heard of love." The justic-e of 
this remark is equal to its shrewdness. The ri- 
diculous prate of a family has frequently great 
influence on young minds, who learn to love, as 
they do every thing else, by imitation. Young 
creatures, almost mere children, have been con- 
sumed with this second-hand flame lighted up 
at another's passion ; and, in consequence of the 
loves of the footman and chamber-maid, 1 have 
known little master fancy himself a dying swain 
at the age of thirteen, and little miss pining 
away with love in a bib and hanging sleeves. 

That vast heap of volumes, filled with love, 
and sufficient in number to make a library, are 
great inflamers, and seldom fail to produce that 
kind of passion described by Kochefoucault. 
The chief of these literary seducers are the old 
romances, and their degenerate spawn, the mo- 
dern novels. The young student reads of the 
emotions of love, till he imagines that he feels 
them throbbing and fluttering in his little breast ; 
as valetudinarians study the history of a disease, 
till they fancy themselves aff^ected witn every 
symptom of it. For this reason, I am always 
sorry to see any of this trash in the hands of 
young people : 1 look upon Cassandra and Cleo- 
patra, as well as Betty Barnes, Polly "Willis, 
&c. as no better than bawds ; and consider Don 
Bellianis of Greece, and Sir Amadis de Gaul, 
with George Edwards, Loveill, &c. as arrant 
pimps. But though romances and novels are 
both equally stiraulatives, yet their operations 
are very ditferent. The romance student be- 
comes a fond Corydon of Sicily, or a very Da- 
mon of Arcadia, and is in good truth such a 
dying swain, that he believes he shall hang him- 
self on the next willow, or drown himself in the 
next pond, if he should lose the object of his 
Avishes 1 but the young novelist turns out more 
a man of the world, and, after having gained 
the affections of his mistress, forms a hundred 
schemes to secure the possession of her, and to 
bam her relations. 

There are, among the tribe of lovers, a sort 
of lukewarm gentlemen, who can hardly be 
said, in the language of love, to entertain a 
flame for their mistress. These are your men 
of superlative delicacy and refinement who 



No. 124.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



211 



oathe the gross ideas annexed to the amours of 
the vulgar, and aim at something more spirit- 
ualized and sublime. These philosophers in 
love doat on the mind alone of their mistress, 
and would fain see her naked soul divested of 
its material incumbrances. Gentlemen of this 
complexion might perhaps not improperlj- be 
ranged in the romantic class ; but they have as- 
sumed to themselves the name of Platonic Lo- 
vers. 

Platonism, ho'svever, is in these days very 
scarce; and there is another class, infinitely more 
numerous, composed of a sort of lovers, whom 
^ve may justly distinguish by the title of Epicu- 
reans. The principles of this sect are diametri- 
cally opposite to those of the Platonics. They 
think no moi'e of the soul of their mistress, than 
a Mussulman, but are in raptures with her per- 
son. A lover of this sort is in perpetual ecsta- 
cies : his passion is so violent, that he even 
scoi'ches you with his flame ; and he runs over 
the perfections of his mistress in the same style 
that a jockey praises his horse : " Such limbs ! 

such eyes ! such a neck and breast ! such 

oh, she's a rare piece !" Their ideas go no fai'- 
ther than mere external accomplishments ; and, 
as their w^ounds may be said to be only skin- 
deep, we cannot allow their breasts to be smitten 
with love, though perhaps they may rankle with 
a much grosser passion. Yet it must be owned, 
that nothing is more common, than for gentle- 
men of this cast to be involved in what is called 
a love-match : but then it is owing to the same 
cause with the marriage of Sir John Brute, who 
says, " I married my wife, because I wanted to 
lie with her, and she would not let me." 

Other gentlemen, of a gay disposition and 
warm constitution, who go in the catalogue for 
lovers, are adorers of almost every woman they 
see. The flame of love is as easily kindled in 
them, as the sparks are struck out of a flint ; 
and it also expires as soon. A lover of this sort 
dances, one day, with a lady at a ball, and loses 
his heart to her in a minuet : the next, another 
carries it off in the Mall ; and the next day, per- 
haps, he goes out of town, and lodges it in the 
possession of all the country beauties successive- 
ly, till at last he brings it back to town with 
him, and presents it to the flrst woman he meets. 
This class is very numerous ; but ought by no 
means to hold a place among the tribe of true 
lovers, since a gentleman, who is thus in love 
with every body, may fairly be said not to be in 
love at all. 

Love is universally allowed to be whimsical ; 
and if whim is the essence of love, none can be 
accounted truer lovei^s, than those who admire 
their mistress for some particular charm, which 
enchains them, though it would singly never 
captivate any body else. Some gentlemen have 
been won to conjugal embraces by a pair of fine 
arms ; others have been held fast by an even 



white set of teeth ; and I know a very good 
scholar, who was ensnared by a set of golden 
tresses, because it was the taste of the ancients, 
and the true classical hair. Those ladies, whose 
lovers are such piecemeal admirers, are in perpe- 
tual danger of losing them. A rash, or a pim- 
ple, may abate their affection. All those, the 
object of whose adoration is merely a pretty face 
or a fine person, are in the power of the like ac- 
cidents ; and the small-pox has occasioned many 
a poor lady the loss of her beauty and her lover 
at the same time. 

But, after all these spurious Enamoratos, 
there are some few whose passion is sincere and 
well-founded. True, genuine love is always 
built upon esteem : not that I would mean, that 
a man can reason and argue himself into love ; 
but that a constant intercourse with an amiable 
woman will lead him into a contemplation of 
her excellent qualities, which will insensibly 
win his heart, before he is himself aware of it, 
and beget all those hopes, fears, and other ex- 
travagancies which are the natural attendants 
on a true passion. Love has been described ten 
thousand times : but that I may be sure that 
the little picture I would draw of it is taken 
from nature, I will conclude this paper with 
the story of honest Will Easy and his amiable 

wife. Will Easy and Miss became very 

early acquainted, and, from being familiarly in- 
timate with the whole family, Will might be al- 
most said to live there. He dined and supped 
with them perpetually in town, and spent great 
part of the summer with them at their seat in 
the countrj'. Will and the lady were both uni- 
versally allowed to have sense, and their fre- 
quent convei'sations together gave them undoubt- 
ed proofs of the goodness of each other's disposi- 
tion. They delighted in the company, and ad- 
mired the perfections, of each other, and gave a 
thousand little indications of a growing passion, 
not unobserved by others, even while it was yet 
unknown and unsuspected by themselves. How- 
ever, after some time. Will, by mutual agree- 
ment, demanded the lady of her father in mar- 
riage. But, alas ! " the course of true love 
never yet run smooth :" the ill-judged ambition 
of a parent induced the father, out of mere love 
to his daughter, to refuse her hand to the only 
man in the world with Avhom she could live 
happily, because he imagined that he might, in 
the Smithfield phrase, do better for her. But 
love, grounded on just principles, is not easily 
shaken ; and, as it appeared that their mutual 
passion had taken too deep root ever to be extir- 
pated, the father at last, reluctantly, half con- 
sented to their imion. They enjoy a genteel 
competency ; and Will, by his integrity and 
abilities, is an honour to a learned profession, 
and a blessing to his wife, whose greatest praise 
is, that her virtues deserve such a huijband. She 
is pleased with having " left dross to dutchessesi" 



£1: 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 125. 



he considers her happiness as his main interest ; 
and their example every day gives fresh convic- 
tion to the father, that where two persons of 
strong sense and good hearts conceive a recipro- 
cal affection for each other, their passion is ge- 
nuine and lasting, and their union is perhaps 
the truest state of happiness under the sun. 

O. 



No. 125.] Thursbav, June 17, 1756. 



Cervius heec inter viclnus garrit aniles 

Ex refabellas Hor. 

With Mr. Town when prose and precepts fail, 
His friend supplies a poem or a tale. 

Nothing has given me a more sensible pleasure, 
in the course of this undertaking, than the 
having been occasionally honoured with the cor- 
respondence of several ingenious gentlemen of 
hoth our universities. My paper of to-day 
gives me unusual satisfaction on this account ; 
and I cannot help looking on it with a great 
deal of pleasure, as a sort of a little Cambridge 
miscellany. The reader will see it is composed 
of two poems, which I have lately i-eceived from 
a correspondent in that learned university. 
'I'hese little pieces, unless my regard for the 
writer makes me partial to themi, contain many 
beauties, and are written with that elegant pecu- 
liarity of style and manner, which plainly speak 
them to come from the same hand that has 
already obliged the public with some other pieces 
of poetry, published in this paper. 

TO MR. TOWN. 
Sir, Trin. Coll. Cant. Jun. 6. 

Your essay on th*e abuse of words was very 
well received here ; but more especially that 
part of it which contained the modern definition 
of the word ruined. You must know. Sir, 
that in the language of our old dons, every 
young man is ruined who is not an arrant Tycho 
Brake, Erra Pater. Yet it is remarkable, that, 
though the servants of the Muses meet with 
more than ordinary discouragement at this place, 
Cambridge has produced many celebrated poets : 
witness Spenser, Milton, Cowley, Dryden, &c. 
not to mention some admired Avriters of the pre- 
sent times. I myself. Sir, am grievously sus- 
pected of being better acquainted with Homer 
and Virgil than Euclid or Saunderson ; and am 
universally agreed to be ruined, for having con- 
cerned myself with Hexameter and Pentameter 
more than Diameter. The equity of this deci- 
sion I shall not dispute ; but content myself at 
present with submitting to the public, by means 
of your paper, a few lines on the impoj't of 
another favourite word, occasioned by the essay 
above-mentioned. 



But fearing that so short a piece will not be 
sufficient to eke out a whole paper, I have sub- 
joined to it another little pnem, not originally 
designed for the public view, but written as a 
familiar epistle to a friend. The whole is no- 
thing more than the natural result of many let- 
ters and conversations, that had passed between 
us on the present state of poetry in these king- 
doms : in which I flattered myself, that I was 
justifiable in my remarks on the bairenness of 
invention in most modern compositions, as well 
as in regard to the cause of it- We ai"e now, 
indeed, all become such exact critics, that there 
are scarce any tolerable poets : what I mean by 
exact critics is, that we are grown, (I speak in 
genera],) by the help of Addison and Pope, 
better judges of composition, than heretofore. 
We get an early knowledge of what chaste writ- 
ing is, and even school-boys are checked in the 
luxuriancy of their genius, and not suffered to 
run riot in their imaginations. I must own I 
cannot help looking on it as a bad omen to 
poetry, that there is now-a-days scarce any such 
thing to be met with as fustian and bombast : 
for our authors, dreading the vice of incorrect- 
ness above all others, gi'ow ridiculously precise 
and affected. In short, however paradoxical it 
may seem, vre have now, in my opinion, too coi*- 
rect a taste. It is to no purpose for such pru- 
dent sober wooers, as our modern bards, to knock 
at the door of the Muses. They, as well as 
mortal ladies, love to be attacked briskly. 
Should we take a review even of Chaucer's 
poetry, the most inattentive reader, in the very 
thickest of old Geoffrey's woods, would find the 
light sometimes pierce through, and break in 
upon him like lightning ; and a man must have 
no soul in him, who does not admire the fancy, 
the strength, and elegance of Spenser, even 
through that disagreeable habit, which the 
fashion of the times obliged him to Avear. To 
conclude, there is this material difference be- 
tween the former and present age of poetry ; 
that the ^vi-iters in the first tliought poetically ; 
in the last, they only express tliemselves so. 
Modern poets seem to me more to study the 
manner how they shall write, than what is to 
be written. The minute accui'acy of their pro- 
ductions ; the bells of their rhjTnes, so well 
matched, making most melodious tinkle ; and all 
the mechanism of poetry, so exactly finislunl ; 
(together Avith a total deficiency of spirit, which 
should be the leaven of the whole) put me in 
mind of a piece of furniture, generally found 
in the studies of the learned, " in an odd angle 
of the room," a mahogany case, elegantly carve<l 
and fashioned on the outside, the specious cover- 
ing of a — chamber-pot. 

I am, Sir, vour humble servant, 

R. L. 



No. 125.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



2J3 



THE SATYR AND THE PEDLAR, 



Words are, so Woilaston defines, 
Of our ideas merely signs. 
Which have a power at will to vary, 
As being vague and arbitrary. 
Now damn'd, for instance — All agree 
Damn'd's the superlative Degree ; 
Means that alone, and nothing more. 
However taken heretofore. 
Damn'd is a word can't stand alone. 
Which has no meaning of its own : 
But signifies or bad or good. 
Just as its neighbour's understood. 
Examples we may find enough : 
Damn'd high, damn'd low, damn'd fine,damn'd stuff. 
So fares it too with its relation, 
I mean its substantive damnation. 
The wit with metaphors makes bold, 
And tells you he's damnation cold ? 
Perhaps, that metaphor forgot. 
The self-same wit's damnation hot. 

And here a fable I remember- 
Once, in the middle of December, 
When ev'ry mead in snow Ls lost. 
And ev'ry river bound with frost ; 
When famihes get altogether. 
And feelingly talk o'er the weather ; 
When — pox of the descriptive rhyme — 
In short, it was the winter time. 
It was a pedlar's happy lot 
To fall into a satyr's cot ; 
Shiv'ring with cold, and almost froze. 
With pearly drop upon his nose. 
His fingers' ends all pinched to death. 
He blew upon them with his breath. 
" Friend," quoth the satyr, " what intends 
That blowing on thy fingers' ends !" 
" It is to warm them thus I blow. 
For they are froze as cold as snow ; 
And so inclement has it been, 
I'm like a cake of ice within." 
" Come," quoth the satyr, " comfort, man ! 
I'll cheer thy inside if I can ; 
You're welcome, in my homely cottage, 
To a warm fire, and mess of pottage." 

This said, the satyr, nothing loath, 
A bowl prepar'd of sav'ry broth ; 
Which with delight the pedlar view'd, 
As smoking on the board it stood. 
But, though the very steam arose 
With grateful odour to his nose. 
One single sip he ventured not. 
The gruel was so wondrous hot. 
What can be done ? — with gentle puff 
He blows it till it's cool enough. 

" Why, how now, pedlar, what's the matter ? 
Still at thy blowing?" quoth the satyr. 
" I blow to cool it," cries the clown, 
" That I may get the liquor down ; 
For, though I grant you've made it well, 
You've boil'd it, sir, as hot as helL" 

Then raising high his cloven stump, 
The satyr smote him on the rump. 
" Begone, thou double knave, or fool ; 
With the same breath to warm and cool ! 
Friendship with such I never hold, 
Who're so damn'd hot, and so damn'd cold." 



EPISTLE rO A FRIEND. 

Again I urge my old objection, 
That modern rules obstruct perfection. 
And the severity of taste 
Has laid the walk of genius waste. 
Fancy's a flight we deal no more in. 
Our authors creep instead of soaring, 
And all the brave imagination 
Is dwindled into declamation. 

But still you cry, in sober sadness, 
" There is discretion e'en in madness." 
A pithy sentence ! but wants credit. 
Because, I find, a poet said it : 
Their verdict makes but small impression, 
Who are known liars by profession. 
Rise what exalted flights it will. 
True genius will be genius stilL 
And say, that horse would you prefer, 
Which wants a bridle or a spur "> 
The mettled steed may lose his tricks j 
The jade grows callous to your kicks. 

Had Shakspeare crept by modern rules. 
We'd lost his v>ntche£, fairies, fools. 
Instead of all that wild creation. 
He'd form'd a regular plantation. 
Or garden trim and all aiclos'd. 
In nicest symmetry dispos'd. 
The hedges cut in proper order. 
Nor e'en a branch beyond its border. 
Now like a forest he appears, 
The growth of twice three hundred years ; 
Where many a tree aspiring shrouds 
It's very summit in the clouds. 
While round its roof still loves to twine 
The ivy and wild eglantine. 

" But Shakspeare's all-Creative fancy 
Made others love extravagancy. 
While cloud-capt nonsense was their aim. 
Like Hurlothrumbo's mad Lord Fame." 
True. — Who can stop dull imitators. 
Those younger brothers of translators. 
Those insects, which from genius rise. 
And buzz about, in swarms, like flies ? 
Fashion, that sets the modes of dress. 
Sheds too her influence o'er the press : 
As formerly the sons of rhyme 
Sought Shakspeare's fancy and sublime. 
By cool correctness now they hope 
To emulate the praise of Pope. 
But Pope and Shakspeare both disclaim 
These low retainers to their fame. 

What task can dulness e'er affect 
So easy, as to write correct ? 
Poets, 'tis said, are sure to split 
By too much or too little wit ; 
So, to avoid the extremes of either. 
They miss their mark, and follow neither 
They so exactly poise the scale. 
That neither measure will prevail ; 
And mediocrity the Muse 
Did never in her sons excuse. 
*Tis true, their tawdry works are grac'd 
With all the charms of modern taste. 
And ev'ry senseless line is drest 
In quaint expression's tinsel vest. 
Say, did you ever chance to meet 
A Monsieur Barber in the street. 
Whose rufile, as it lank depends. 
And dangles o'er his fingers' ends, 
His olive-tann'd complexion gracpji. 
With little dabs of Dresden laces -, 



214 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 126. 



While for the body. Monsieur Puflf 
Would think e'en dowlass fine enough ? 
So fares it with oar men of rhymes. 
Sweet tinklers of poetic chimes : 
For lace, and fringe, and tawdry clothes. 
Sure never yet were greater beaux ; 
Howe'er they deck the outward frame 
The inner skeleton's the same. 

But shall these wretched bards commence, 
Without or spirit, taste, or sense ? 
And when they bring no other treasure. 
Shall I admire them for their measure ? 
Or do I scorn the critic's rules, 
Because I will not learn of fools ? 
Although Longinus' full-mouth'd prose 
With all the force of genius glows; 
Though Dionysius' learned taste 
Is ever manly, just, and chaste. 
Who, like a skilful, wise physician. 
Dissects each part of composition. 
And shows how beauty strikes the soul. 
From a just compact of the whole ; 
Though judgment in Quintilian's page 
Holds forth her lamp for ev'ry age ; 
Yet Hypercritics I disdain, 
A race of blockheads, dull and vain. 
And laugh at all those empty fools. 
Who cramp a genius with dull rules. 
And what their narrow science mocks 
Damn with the name of Het'rodox. 
These butchers of a poet's fame. 
While they usurp the critic's name 
Cry, " this is taste — that's my opinion :". 
And poets dread their mock dominion. 
So have you seen, with dire affright. 
The petty monarch of the night. 
Seated aloft in elbow-chair. 
Command the pris'ners to appeal ; 
Harangue an hour on watchman's praise. 
And on the dire effect of frays ; 
Then cry, " you'll suffer for your daring. 
And damn you, you shall pay for swearing : 
Then, turning, tell th' astonish'd ring, 
" I sit to represent the King." 



No. 126. Thursday, June 24, 17o6. 



Provide tona eloquio, solifum tili.- 



ViRG. 



Rant, roar, and bellow, with theatric air. 
And sink the reverend preacher in the player. 

I REMEMBER fi rector of a parish at tlie court 
end of the town, who Avas generally accounted 
a very fine preacher, that nsed to aim at deliver- 
ing himself in the most hold and animated style 
of oratory. The tone of his voice was nicely 
accommodated to the different hranches of 
his discourse, and every thing was pronounced 
with uncommon energy and emphasis: he also 
indulged himself in equal freedom of action, 
and abounded in various extraordinary gesticu- 
lations : his sermons themselves were sown 
thick with cropfls, metaphors, and similes, and 
every where enriched with npostropfie and p7-oso- 
fopccia. 



As I knew that this reverend gentleman had 
been abroad with a young nobleman in the ca- 
pacity of a travelling tutor, I did not wonder 
at the violent exertion of his voice and the ve- 
hemence of his action ; this affected air being a 
piece of clerical foppery, which an itinerant 
clergyman is apt to adopt, while his pupil is 
gleaning all the other follies of Paris : at which 
place it is very common to see a capuchine so 
heated with his subject, that he often seems in 
danger of throwing himself cut of the pulpit. 
But I was at a loss how to account for the glow- 
ing style of his discourses; till happening to 
turn over the works of a celebrated French 
preacher, I found, that the oratorical perfor- 
mances of my friend were no other than faith- 
ful translations of them. 

This sort of pulpit plagiarisms may perhaps 
be more adapted to the taste of some of our fa- 
shionable declaimers, than the more hackneyed 
method of transcribing a page from Barrow, 
Tillotson, or Atterbury. But, although such 
practices may be less liable to detection, it is 
cei'tainly more orthodox to rifle the works of 
our own divines, than to ransack the treasures 
of Romish priests ; and their inflamed orations 
are undoubtedly less adapted to the genius of 
our peoi^le, than the sober reasonings of our own 
preachers. Voltaire, in his essay on epic poetry^ 
has touched this point with his usual vivacity, 
and given a very just description of the difte- 
rent species of pulpit eloquence, that obtain in 
France and England. The whole passage is as 
follows: — " Discourses, aiming at the jmlhetic, 
pronounced with vehemence, and accompanied 
with violent gestures, would excite laughter 
in an English congregation. For as they are 
fond of bloated language and the most impas- 
sioned eloquence on the stage, so in the pulpit 
they affect the most unornamented simplicity. 
A sermon in France is a long declamation, scru- 
pulously divided into three parts, and delivered 
with enthusiasm. In England, a sermon is a 
solid, but sometimes dry, dissertation, which a 
man reads to the people, without gesture, and 
without any particular exaltation of the voice. 
In Italy, (he adds) a sermon is a spiritual co- 
medy:" or rather farce, he might have said; 
since the preachers in that country hiu-angue 
their audience, running to and fro on a sort of 
raised stage, like a mountebank. It must be 
owned, however, that some of our clergy are 
greatly wanting in that life and spirit, which 
would render their instructions more affecting 
as well as more pleasing. Their sermons are 
frequently drav.led out in one dull tone, without 
any variation of voice or gesture : so that it is 
no wonder, if some of the congregation should 
be caught napping, when the preacher himself 
hardly seems to be awake. But though this 
di'owsy delivery is not to be commended, yet a 
serious eaincstness is most likely to engage the 



No. 126.- 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



215 



attention, and convince the reason. This 
manner, as it is most decent in itself, is best 
suited to an English audience : though it is 
no wonder, that a different strain of oratory 
should prevail in France ; since a Frenchman 
accompanies almost every veord in ordinary 
conversation with some fantastic gesture, and 
even inquires concerning youi' health, and talks 
of the weather, with a thousand shrugs and gri- 
maces. 

But though I do not like to see a preacher 
lazily lolling on the cushion, or dozing over his 
seraion-case, and haranguing his audience with 
an unchristian apathy ; yet even this unanima- 
ted delivery is perhaps less offensive, than to 
observe a clergj-man not so assiduous to instruct 
his audience, as to be admired by them : not to 
mention, that even Voltaire himself seems to 
think our manner of preaching preferable, on 
the whole, to the declamatory style and affected 
gestures, losed by the clergy of his own nation. 
A sober divine should not ascend the pulpit with 
the same passions, that a public orator mounts 
the rostrum : much less should he assume the 
voice, gesture, and deportment of a player, and 
the language of the theatre. He should preserve 
a temperance in the most earnest parts of his 
discourse, and go through the whole of it in such 
a manner, as best agrees with the solemn place 
in w^hich it is uttered. Pompous nonsense, bel- 
lowed out with a thundering accent, comes with 
a worse grace from the pulpit, than bombast 
and fustian injudiciously ranted forth by a 
" periwig-pated felloTv" on the stage. I cannot 
better illustrate the absurdity and indecency of 
this manner, than by a familiar, though shame- 
ful, instance of it. V>"hoever has occasionally join- 
ed Avith the butchers in making up the audience 
of the Clare-market orator, will agree with me, 
that the impropriety of his style, and the extra- 
vagance of his action, become still more shocking 
and intolerable by the day which they profane, 
and the ecclesiastical appearance of the place in 
which the declaimer harangues. Thus while 
those, who thunder out damnation froni parish 
pulpits, may, from assuming the manners of the 
theatre, be resembled to ranting players ; the 
Clare-market orator, while he turns religion in- 
to farce, must be considered as exhibiting shows 
and interludes of an inferior nature, and himself 
regarded as a Jack-pudding in a gown and cas- 
sock. 

A bloated stj'le is perhaps of all others least to 
be commended. It is more frequently made a 
shelter for nonsense, than a vehicle of truth : 
but though improper on all occasions, it more 
especially deviates from the chaste plainness and 
simplicity of pulpit eloquence. Xor am I less 
displeased with those, who are admired by some 
as pretty preachers ; as I think a clergyman 
may be a coxcomb in his style and manner, as 
v^eU as a prig in his appearance. Flowers of 



rhetoric, injudiciously scattered over a seraion, 
are as disgusting in his discourse, as the snug 
■wig and scented white handkerchief in his di'ess. 
The pretty preacher aims also at politeness and 
good-breeding, takes the ladies to task in a gen- 
teel vein of raillery, and handles their modish 
foibles with the same air, that he gallants their 
fans : but if he has a mind to put his abilities to 
the stretch, and indulge himself in a more than 
ordinary flow of rhetoric, he flitters away the 
solemnity of some scriptiu-al subject ; and I have 
heard a flourishing declaimer of this cast take off 
from the avrful idea of the Passion, by dwelling 
principally on the gracefulness of person, sweet- 
ness of voice, and elegance of deportment, in the 
Divine Sufferer ; and at another time, in speak- 
ing of the fall, I have known him to enter into a 
picturesque description of the "woods, groves, and 
rivulets, pansies, pinks, and violets, that threw a 
perpetual gayety over the face of nature in the 
garden of Eden. 

Affected oratory and an extravagant delivei-y 
were first practised by those who vary from the 
established chiu-ch : nor is there any manner so 
unbecoming and indecent, which has not, at one 
time or another, been accounted truly spiritual 
and graceful. Snuffling through the nose Tvith 
a harmonious twang, has been regarded as a 
kind of church-music best calculated to raise de- 
votion, and a piteous chorus of sighs and groans 
has been thought the most efl'ectual call to repen- 
tance. Ii'regular tremblings of the voice, and 
contortions of the person, have long been the 
eloquence of quakers and presbyterians ; and are 
now the favom-ite mode of preaching practised 
by those self-ordained teachers, who strike out 
new lights in religion, and pom* forth their ex- 
tempore rhapsodies in a torrent of enthusiastical 
oratoi'v. An inspired cobbler will thunder out 
anathemas, with the tone and gestm-e of St. 
Paul, from a joint-stool ; and an enlightened 
brick-layer will work himself up to such a pitch 
of vehemence, as shall make his audience quake 
again. I am sorry to see our regular divines 
rather copj-ing, than reforming, this hot and ex- 
traA-agant manner of preaching ; and have Avith 
pain been witness to a wild intemperate delivery 
in our parish churches, which I should only 
have expected at the chapel in Long-acre, or at 
the Foundery and Tabernacle in Moor-fields. 

Asa serious earnestness in the delivery, and a 
nervous simplicity in the style of a discourse, 
are the most becoming ornaments of the pulpit, 
so an affectation of eloquence is no where so of- 
fensive. The deliveiy of a preacher, as well as 
his diction, should, like the dress, be plain and 
decent. Inflamed eloquence and wild gestures 
are unsuitable to the place and his function ; and 
though such vehement heat may perhaps kindle 
the zeal of a few enthusiastic old beldams in the 
isle, it has a veiy different effect on the more 
iTitional part of the congregation. I would. 



216 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 127 



therefore recommend it to our fashionable di- 
vines, to aim at being preachers rather than 
orators or actors, and to endeavour to make their 
discourses appear like sermons rather than ora- 
tions. O. 



No. 127.] Thursday, Ji 



1756. 



Fervens difficili bile tumetjecur. 



HOR. 



Rage in her eyes, distraction in her mien, 
Her breast indignant swells with jealous spleen. 



TO MR. TOWN, 



Sir, 



We are told, that in Spain it is the custom for 
husbands never to let their wives go abroad 
without a watchful old woman to attend them ; 
and in Turkey it is the fashion to lock up their 
mistresses under the guard of a trusty eunuch : 
but I never knew, that in any country the men 
Avere put under the same restrictions. Alas ! 
Sir, my wife is to me a very duenna : she is as 
careful of me, as the keisler aga, or chief eunuch, 
is of the grand signior's favourite sultana : and 
whether she believes, that I am in love with 
every woman, or that every womati is in love 
with me, she will never trust me out of her 
sight ; but sticks as close to me, as if she really 
was, without a figure, bone of my bone, and 
flesh of my flesh. I am never sutFered to stir 
abroad without her, lest I should go astray ; and 
at home she follows me up and down the house, 
like a child in leading-strings : nay, if I do but 
step down stairs on any ordinary occasion, she 
is so afraid I shall give her the slip, that she al- 
ways screams after me, " my dear, you are not 
going out ;" though for better secui-ity, she ge- 
nerally locks up my hat and cane, together with 
her own gloves and cardinal, that one may not 
stir out without the other. 

I cannot flatter myself, that I am handsomer 
or better made than other men : nor has she, in 
my eyes at least, fewer charms than other wo- 
men. Need I add, that my complexion is not 
over sanguine, nor my constitution very robust? 
and yet she is so very doubtful of my constancy, 
that 1 cannot speak, or even pay the compliment 
of my hat, to any young lady, though in public, 
without giving new alarms to her jealousy. 
Such a one, she is sure from her flaunting airs, 
is a kept madam ; another is no better than she 
should be ; and she saw another tip me the 
Aviuk, or give me a nod, as a mark of some private 
assignation between us. A nun. Sir, might as 
80on force her way into a convent of monks, as 
any young woman get admittance to our house : 
she has therefore affronted all her acquaintance 
of her own sex, that are not, or might not have 
been, the grandmothers of many generations ; 



and is at home to nobody, but maiden ladles in 
the bloom of threescore, and beauties of the last 
century. 

She will scarce allow me to mix even with 
persons of my own sex ; and she looks upon 
bachelors in particular, as no better than pimps 
and common seducers. One evening, indeed, 
she vouchsafed to trust me out of doors at a ta- 
vern with some of my male friends : but the 
first bottle had scarce gone round, before word 
was brought up, that my boy was come with the 
lantern to light me home. I sent him back with 
orders to call in an hour; when presently after 
the maid was despatched, with notice that my 
dear was gone to bed very ill, and wanted me 
directly. I was preparing to obey the sum- 
mons ; when, to our great surprise, the sick lady 
herself bolted into the room, complained of my 
cruel heart, and fell into a fit ; from which she 
did not recover, till the coach had set us down 
at our own house. She then called me the bas- 
est of husbands, and said, that all taverns were 
no better than bawd}'-houses, and that men only 
went thither to meet naughty women : at last she 
declared it to be her firm resolution, that I should 
never set my foot in any one of them again, ex- 
cept herself be allowed to make one of the com- 
pany. 

You will suppose. Sir, that while my wife is 
thus cautious that I should not be led astray 
when abroad, she takes particular care that 1 
tnay not stumble on temptations at home. For 
this reason, as soon as I had brought her to my 
house, my two maid-servants were immediately 
turned away at a moment's warning, not with- 
out many covert hints, and some open accusa- 
tions, of too near an intimacy between us ; 
though, I protest to you, one was a feeble old 
wrinkled creature, as haggard and frightful as 
mother Shipton, and the other a strapping 
wench, as coarse and brawny as the female 
Samson. Even my man John, who had lived 
in the family for thirty years, was packed off, 
as being too well acquainted with his master's 
sly ways. A char-woman was forced to do our 
work for some time, before Madam could suit 
herself with maids for her piu-pose. One was 
too pert a hussy ; another went too fine ; ano- 
ther was an impudent forward young baggage. 
At present our household is made up of such 
beautiful monsters, as Caliban himself might 
fall in love with : my lady's own waiting wo- 
man has a most inviting hump-back, and is so 
charmingly paralytic, that she shakes all over 
like a Chinese figure ; the housemaid squints 
most delightfully with one solitary eye, which 
weeps continually for the loss of its fellow; and 
the cook, besides a most captivating red face nnd 
protuberant waist, has a most graceful hobble in 
her gait, occasioned by one leg being shorter 
than the other. 

I need not tell vou, that I must never wri;e 



No. 128.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



17 



a letter, but my wife must see the contents, 
before it is done up ; and that I never dare to 
open one, till she has broke the seal ; or read it, 
till she has first run it over. Every rap at the 
door from the post-man makes her tremble ; 
and I have known her ready to burst with spleen 
at seeing a superscription, written in a fair 
Italian hand, though perhaps it only comes from 
my aunt in the coimtry. She can pick out an 
intrigue even from the impression on the wax : 
and a Cupid, or two hearts joined in union, or a 
wafer pricked with a pin, or stamped with a 
thimble she interprets as the certain tokens of a 
billet-doux : and if there is a blank space left 
in any part of the letter, she always holds it for 
some time before the fire ; that, if it should 
be filled with any secret contents, written in 
juice of lemons, they may by that means become 
visible. 

About a month ago she found a mysterious 
paper in my coat-pocket, which awakened all 
her mistrust. This suspicious manuscript w^as 
drawn up in hieroglyphics ; which as slie could 
not interpret, she immediately concluded it to be 
a billet-doux from some nasty creature, whom I 
secretly maintained in a corner of the town ; 
and that we corresponded together in cypher. 
This terrible paper. Sir, was in truth no other 
than a bill fi'om my blacksmith in the country ; 
who, never having learnt to write, expressed his 
meaning by characters of his own invention. 
Thus, if he had mended a spade, he charged it 
to my account, by drawing as well as he could, 
the figure of a spade, and adding at a little dis- 
tance six perpendicular lines, to signify sixpence ; 
or, if he had repaired a plough, he sketched out 
that also in the same kind of rough draught, 
and annexed to it four curve lines, to denote four 
shillings. This matter I explained to my wife 
as fully as possible, but very little to her satisfac- 
tion. It is absolutely impossible to quiet her 
suspicions : she is perpetually reproaching me 
with my private trull, nay upbraids me on this 
account before strangers ; and it was but last 
week, that she put me to inconceivable confusion 
before a whole room full of company, by telling 
them that I was in love with a blacksmith. 

Jealousy, Sir, it is said, is a sign of love. It 
may be so ; but it is a species of love, which is 
attended with all the malevolent properties of 
hate : nay, I will venture to say, that many a 
modern wife hates her husband most heartily, 
without causing him half that uneasiness, which 
my loving consort's suspicious temper creates to 
me. Her jealous whims disturb me the more, 
because I am naturally of an even mind and 
calm disposition ; one of the chief blessings I 
promised myself in matrimony was, to enjoy 
the sweets of domestic tranquillity. I loved my 
wife passionately ; but I must OAvn, that these 
perpetual attacks upon my peace make me regard 
Ler with less and less tenderness every day ; and 



though there is not a woman in the world that I 
would prefer to my wife, yet I am apt to think, 
that such violent suspicions without a cause, 
have often created real matter for jealousy. 
T. I am. Sir, your humble Servant, &c. 



No. 128.] Thursday, July 8, 1736. 



Quod optimum sit quceritis conviviinn f 
In quod chorauels non venit. Mart. 

Happy that house, where fiddles never come, 
Horn, hautboy, harpsicord, nor kettle-drum. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



My wife is mad, stark mad ; and unless you can 
prescribe some remedy for that strange phrenzy 
which possesses her, my peace of mind must be 
for ever broken, and ray fortune inevitably 
ruined. You must know, Sir, that she is 
afflicted with a disorder exactly opposite to the 
bite of a tarantula ; for, as that is said to admit 
of no cure but music, there is not a note in the 
gamut, but what tends to heighten and inflame 
my wife's lunacy. I find it is the fashion in this 
age, for singers and fiddlers to publish appeals to 
the public : wherefore, as you have hitherto 
listened to the complaints of husbands, I must 
beg you now to consider mine, and to suffer me 
also to appeal to the public, by means of your 
paper. 

A few years ago business called me over to 
Italy ; where this unfortunate w^oman received 
the first touches of this disorder. She soon con- 
ceived a violent passion for taste in general, 
which settled at last in an unquenchable rage 
after musical compositions. Solos, sonatas, 
operas, and concertos, became her sole employ- 
ment and delight, and singers and musicians her 
only company. At length, fuU of Italian airs 
she returned to England, where also her whole 
happiness had been centred in the orchestra, and 
it has been her whole pride to be thought a con- 
noisseur in music. If there is an opera, oratorio, 
or concert, to be performed w^ithin the bills of 
mortality, I do not believe that the riches of the 
Indies could prevail on her to be absent. Two, 
and only two, good consequences flow from, this 
madness ; and those are, that she constantly 
attends St. James's chapel, for the sake of the 
anthem and the rest of the music ; and, out of 
the many pounds idly squandered on minims 
and semiquavers, some li^w are dedicated to 
charities, which are promoted by musical per- 
formances. 

But what makes this rage after catgut more 

irksome and intolerable to nae is, that I have 

not myself the least idea of what they call taste, 

and it almost drives me mad to be pestered with 

F f 



218 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 128. 



It, 1 am a plain man, and have not the least 
epice of a connoisseur in my composition : yet 
nothing will satisfy my wife, unless I appear 
as fond of such nonsense as herself. About a 
month ago she prevailed on me to attend her to 
the Opera, where every dying fall made her ex- 
pire, as well as Lady Townly. She was ra- 
vished with one air, in ecstacies at another, ap- 
plauded Illcciarelli, encored Mingotti, and, in 
sliort, acted like an absolute mad woman ; while 
the performance, and her behaviour, had a quite 
different effect upon me, who sat dumb with 
confusion, "most musical, most melancholy," 
at her elbow. When we came home again, she 
seemed as happy as harmony could make her ; 
but 1 must own, that I was all discord, and 
most heartily vexed at being made a fool in pub- 
lic. " Well, my deal'," said she, "how do you 

like the opera?" " Zounds, Madam, I would 

as soon be dragged through a horse- pond, as go 

to an Opera with you again." "O fie! 

but you must be delighted with the Mingotti." 

" The Mingotti ! The devil." " Well, I 

am sorry for it. Sir Aaron, but I find you have 

no ear."- -"Ear, Madam! I had rather cut 

off my ears, than suffer them to make me an 
idiot." To this she made no reply, but began a 
favourite opera tune : and, after taking a tour 
round the room, like one of the singers, left me 
alone. 

If my wife could be satisfied, like other musi- 
cal ladies, with attending public performances, 
and now and then thrumming on her harpsi- 
chord the tunes she hears there, X should be con- 
tent : but she has always a concert of her own 
constantly once a week. Here she is in still 
greater raptures than at the opera, as all the 
music is chosen and appointed by herself. The 
expense of this whim is monstrous ; for not one 
of these people will open their mouths, or rosin 
a single string, without being very well paid for 
it. Then she must have all the best liands and 
voices ; and has almost as large a set of perfor- 
mers in pay as the manager of the opera. It 
puts me quite out of patience to see these fellows 
strutting about my house, dressed up like lords 
and gentlemen. Not a single fiddler, or singer, 
but what appears in lace and embroidery; and 
I once mistook my wife's chief musician for a 
foreign ambassador. 

It is impossible to recount the numberless 
follies to which this ridiculous passion for mu- 
sic exposes her. Her devotion to the art makes her 
almost adore the professors of it. A musician 
is a greater man, in her eye, than a duke ; and 
she would sooner oblige an opera-singer than a 
countess. She is as busy in promoting their be- 
nefits, as if she was to have the receipts of the 
house ; and quarrels with all her acquaintance, 
who will not permit her to load them with 
tickets. P>;erv fiddler in town makes it his 
business: to scrupt- an acquaintance with iier ; 



and an Italian is no sooner imported, than she 
becomes a part of my wife's band of performers. 
In the late opera disputes, she has been a most 
furious partisan ; and it is impossible for any 
patriot to feel more anxiety for the danger of 
Blakeny and Minorca, than she has suffered on 
account of the opera, and the loss of Mingotti. 

I do not believe my wife has a single idea, ex- 
cept recitative, airs, counter-tenor, thorough- 
bass, &c. which are perpetually singing in her 
head. When we sit together, instead of joining 
in any agreeable conversation, she is always 
either humming a tune, or " discoursing most 
eloquent music." Nature has denied her a 
voic« ; but, as Italy has given her taste and a 
gi-aceful manner, she is continually squeaking 
out strains less melodious than the harmony of 
ballad-singing in our streets, or psalm-singing 
in a country church. To make her still more 
ridiculous, she learns to play on that masculine 
instrument, the Bass-viol ; the pleasure of which 
nothing can prevail on her to forego, as the bass- 
viol, she daily tells me, contains the whole power 
and very soul of harmony. 

What method, Mr. Town, shall I pursue to 
cure my wife of this musical frenzy? I have 
some thoughts of holding weekly 3. burlesque 
rorotorio, composed of mock airs, with grand 
accompaniments of the jews-rjai"p, wooden 
spoons, and marrow bones and cleavers, on the 
same day with my wife's concert ; and have ac- 
tually sent to two of Mrs. IMidnight's hands to 
teach me the art and mystery of playing on 
the broom-stick and hurdy-gurdy, at the 
same time that my wife learns on the bass- 
viol. I have also a ntrong rough voice, 
which will enable me to roar out Bumper Squire 
Jones, Roast Beef, or some other old English 
ballad, whenever she begins to ti'ill forth her 
melodious airs in Italian. If this has no effect, 
I wlU learn to beat the drum, or wind the post 
horn : and if I should still find it impossible for 
noise and clamour to overcome the sound of her 
voices and instruments, 1 have half resolvetl 
peremptorily to shut my doors against singei-s 
and fiddlers, and even to demolish her harpsi- 
chord and bass-viol. 

But this, alas ! is coming to extremities, which 
I am almost afraid to venture, and would en- 
deavour to avoid. I have no aversion to music ; 
but I would not be a fiddler : nor do I dislike 
company; but I would as soon keep an irn, as 
convert my house into a theatre for all the idle 
things of both sexes to assemble at. But my 
wife's affections are so wedded to the gamxit, 
that I cannot devise any means to wean her 
from this folly. If I could make her fond of 
dress, or teach her to love cards, plays, or any 
thing but music, I should be happy. This me- 
thod of destroying my peace with harmony, is no 
better than tickling me to death ; and to squan- 
der away sucli sums of money on a parcel of 



No. 129.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



219 



bawling scraping rascais in laced coats and bag 
wigs, is absolutely giving away my estate for an 
old song. You, Mr. Town, are a professed 
Connoisseur; therefore, eitber give me a little 
taste, or teacb my wife to abandon it: for at 
present we are but a jangling pair, and there is 
not the least harmony between us, though, like 
bass and treble, we are obliged to join in con- 
cert. 

I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 
T. Aaron Humkin. 



No. 129.] Thursday, July 15, 1756. 



——Post cineres gloria sera venit. 

Fame to our ashes comes, alas ! too late ; 
And praise smells rank upon the cofEn-plate. 



Mart. 



TO MR. TOWN. 



Sir, 



I AM a rich old bachelor, and, like other an- 
cient gentlemen of that order, am very fond of 
being indulged in all my odd humours, and al- 
ways having my own way. This is one reason 
I never married ; for if my wife had been a 
shrewish termagant, she would have killed me ; 
and if she had been a tame domestic animal, I 
should have killed her. But the way of life 1 
have now fallen into is, of all others, the best 
calculated to gratify ray fantastical temper. I 
have no near relation, indeed, who will submit 
to be treated as an humble cousin all my life, in 
hopes of being happy at my death ; yet I abound 
in sycophants and followers, every one of whom 
I delude, like another Yolpone, with the expec- 
tations of being made my heii". The abject spirit 
of these wretches flatters me, and amuses me. 
I am indolent, and hate contradiction ; and can 
safely say, that not one of my acquaintance has 
contradicted me for these seven years. There 
is not one of them but would be glad if I would 
spit in his face, or rejoice at a kick of the breech 
from me, if they thought I meant it as a token 
of my familiarity. When I am grave, they ap- 
pear as duU as mutes at a funeral : when I 
smile, they grin like monkeys ; when I tell a 
silly story, they chuckle over every ridiculous 
particular, and shake their sides in admiration 
of my wit. Sometimes I pretend to be short- 
sighted, and then not one of them sees farther 
than his nose. They swallow sour wine, eat 
musty Tictuals, and are proud to ride in my old 
boots. 

I have been told of a certain prelate, who 
brought his chaplains to such a degree of civility, 
that after every deal at whist, they would ask 
him, what he would choose to have for trumps 
next deal? I keep my fellows in equal good 
order. They all think me a close old hunks ; 



and imagining that winning their money will 
put me in good humour with them, they prac- 
tise all the arts of sharping to cheat themselves. 
I have known them pack the cards at whist, 
that I might hold all the four honours in my 
own hand : they wiU load the dice in my favour 
at hazard; pocket themselves on purpose, at 
billiards ; and, at bowls, if any one is near win- 
ning the game, he never fails in the next cast to 
mistake his bias. It is impossible for the most 
despotic monarch to be more absolute over his 
subjects, than I am over these slaves and syco- 
phants. Yet, in spite of all their endeavours to 
oblige me, 1 most heartily despise them ; and 
have already di-awn up a will, in which I have 
bequeathed to each of them a shilling and a dog 
coUar. 

But, though I have settled in my mind what 
legacies I shall leave them, I have not thorough- 
ly resolved in what manner I shall dispose of 
the bulk of my estate. Indeed, I am fully de- 
termined, like most other wealthy bachelors, 
either to leave my fortune to some ostentatious 
pious uses, or to persons whom I have never 
seen, and for whose characters I have not the 
least regard or esteem. To speak sincerely, os- 
tentation caiTies away my whole heart; but 
then, it is a little difficult to find out a new ob- 
ject to indulge my vanity, whilst I am on this 
side of the grave, by securing to me a certain 
prospect of posthumous fame, which is always 
so agreeable to living pride. 

The hospitals are so numerous, that my name 
will be lost among those more known and esta- 
blished of Guy, Morden, Bancroft, and I know 
not who. Besides, in the space of four or five 
centuries, perhaps, it may be thought, notwith- 
standing my whole length picture and statue, 
that I had assistance from parliament. If I 
order my money to be laid out in churches, they 
wiU never be built ; if in temples, gardens, 
lakes, obelisks, and serpentine rivers, the next 
generation of the sons of taste wiU demolish all 
my works, turn my rounds into squares, and 
my squares into rounds, and not leave even my 
bust, although it were cast in plaster of Paris 
by Mr. Rackstrow, or worked up in wax by 
Mr. Goupy. Or supposing, in imitation of 
some of my predecessors, I were to bequeath 
my fortune to my housekeeper, and recommend 
her in my will as a pattern of virtue, diligence, 
and every good quality, what will be the eflfect ? 
In three weeks after my death she will marry 
an Irishman, and I shall not even enjoy my mo- 
nument and marble periwig in Westminster 
Abbey. 

Nothing perplexes me so much as the disposal 
of my money by my last will and testament. 
While I am living,- it procures the most servile 
compliance with all my whims from my syco- 
phants, and several other conveniences : but I 
would fain buy fame with it after my dcftth. 



220 



THE CONNOISSEUK. 



[No. 130. 



Do but instruct me, how I may lay it out in 
the most valuable purchases of this sort : only 
discover some new object of charity, and per- 
haps I may bequeath you a round sum of money 
for your advice. 

I am, Sir, your humble Servant, 

Thomas Vainall. 

It is said by an old poet, that no man's life 
can be called happy or unhappy till his death ; 
in like manner, I have often thought, that no 
words or actions are a bettor comment on a per- 
son's temper and disposition, than his last will 
and testament. This is a true portraiture of 
himself, drawn at full length by his own hand, 
in which the painting is commonly very lively, 
and the features very strongly marked. In the 
discharge of this solemn act, people sign and 
seal themselves, either wise and good characters, 
or villains and fools : and any person that makes 
a ridiculous will, and bequeaths his money to 
frivolous uses, only takes a great deal of pains, 
like Dogberry in the play, " that he may be set 
down an ass." 

The love of fame governs our actions more 
universally than any other passion. All the 
rest gradually drop off, but this runs through 
our whole lives. This, perhaps, is one of the 
chief inducements, that influences wealthy per- 
sons to bequeath their possessions to ostentatious 
uses; and they would as willingly lay out a 
considerable sum in buying a gi'eat name (if 
possible) at their deaths, as they would bestow 
it on the purchase of a coat of heraldry, during 
their lives. They are pleased with leaving 
some memorial of their existence behind them, 
and to perpetuate the remembrance of them- 
selves by the application of their money to some 
vainglorious purposes ; though the good g entle- 
men never did one act to make themselves re- 
markable, or laid out a single shilling in a laud- 
able manner, while they lived. If an Apothe- 
osis were to be bought, how many rich scoun- 
drels would be deified after their deaths ! not a 
plum in the city but would purchase this ima- 
ginary godship as readily as he paid for his free- 
dom at his first setting up ; and I doubt not but 
this fantastical distinction would be more fi'e- 
quent on an escutcheon than a coronet. 

The disposal of our fortunes by our last will 
should be considered as the discharge of a sacred 
trust which we should endeavour to execute in 
a just manner ; and, as we have had the enjoy- 
ment of rich possessions, we ought carefully to 
provide, that they may devolve to those who 
have the most natural claim to them. They 
who may first demand our favour, are those 
who are allied to us by the ties of blood ; next 
to these, stand those persons to whom we are 
connected by friendship : and, next to our friends 
and relations, mankind in general. But the 
humanity of a testator will not be thought very 



extensive, though it reaches to posterity, or in- 
cludes the poor in general, if it neglects the ob- 
jects of charity immediately under his eye, or 
those individuals, who have the best title to his 
benevolence. Virgil has placed those rich 
men, who bestowed none of their wealth on 
their relations, among the chief personages in 
his hell. Wherefore I would advise my good 
correspondent Mr. Vainall first to consider, 
whether he has not som.e poor relation, starving 
perhaps in some distant part of the kingdom : 
after that, let him look round whether he has 
not some friends, whom he may possibly relieve 
from misery and distress. But if he has no re- 
lation, nor any person in the world that has any 
regard for him, before he begins to endow a col- 
lege, or found an hospital, 1 should take it as a 
particular favour if he would leave his money 
to me, and I will promise to immortalize his 
memory in the Connoisseur. 



k.'V«<W'V^%<».'V»%^ 



No 130. Thursday, July 22, 1756. 



-Jjyr<e solers, et cantor. 



Hob. 



Sweet Virtuosa ! with wliat art she sings 

With what a gusto strikes the trembling strings ! 

I have just received the following letter from 
Lady Humkin, the musical consort of my late 
correspondent Sir Aai-on. I shall not pretend 
to moderate in family-disputes of so important 
a nature, but leave each party to speak for them- 
selves. 

Mr. Town, 

Pray hear both sides fairly, before you judge; 
for (to use a vulgar expi'ession) one story is good 
till the other is told. I am, Sir, the unfortunate 
wife of that inelegant (I had almost said insen- 
sible) husband, who, in your paper of the eighth 
instant, pronounces and publishes me to be mad, 
stai'k mad. 

I confess and glory in my passion for music ; 
and can there be a nobler or a more generous 
one? My nerves are naturally strung to har- 
mony, and variously affected by the various com- 
binations of the gamut. Some stay in Italy added 
skill and taste in composition to my natural hap- 
py disposition to music -. and the best judges, as 
well as the best performers in that country, al- 
lowed me to have an uncommon share of virtu. I 
both compose and perform. Sir ; and, though I say 
it, perhaps few, even of the profession, possess the 
contra-punto and the cromatic better ; and I have 
had the unspeakable pleasure of hearing my 
compositions and my performances dignified in 
Italy with the unanimous appellations of squisi- 
to, divino, and adorevole. 

Is there any madness in this? Does not he 



No. 130.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



221 



better deserve that imputation, Avhose breast is 
insensible and impenetrable to all the charms 
and powers of harmony? To be plain, I mean 
my husband : whom I have frequently seen 
yawn, nay leave the room, in the middle of 
the most touching pathetic, sung by the 
most affecting Signora Miugotti, accompanied 
by the divine Signor di Giardino. And yet, — 
pardon this digressive transport,— how irresisti- 
ble is the expression, the melody, the cadences, 
the appogiaturas of that incomparable virtuoso ! 
What energy, what delicacy, and what variety 
are in the inimitable compositions and exe- 
cution of the charming Signor d' Giardino ! 
What an arpeggio he has, what a staccato, what 
an andante ! In short, I may, I am sure, with 
truth assert, that whether in the allegro, or the 
piano, the adagio, the largo, ov ih^ forte, he never 
had his equal. Oh, Mr. Town, what an irre- 
trievable loss has this country sustained ! My 
good man, among his other qualifications, is a 
politician, you must know ; and one of hisprin- 
cipal objections against these virtuosi is, that 
they are foreigners. He flew into a violent pas- 
sion with me last Sunday night, because I had 
a concert at my house, when (he said) such bad 
news were received from abroad. I know not 
what he, and other muddy-headed politicians, 
may think : but let him talk what he will of 
the Blakeney, the Governor, the Admiral, I 
am sure the nation cannot sustain a greater evil, 
than the loss of the Mingotti ; who, as the 
public prints will inform you, " is gone to 
Holland, till her affairs in England can be set- 
tled." 

But however gothic my husband may be, I 
am fully determined to discharge the duty of a 
good wife. Accordingly, whenever he comes 
into my room, I sit down to my harpsichord, 
and sing and play the most soothing pieces of 
music, in hopes some time or other of hitting 
his unison, but hitherto to no purpose ; and, to 
say the truth, I fear he has not one harmonic 
nerve in his whole system, though otherwise a 
man of good plain sense. When he interrupts 
my performances (as in his letter he owns that 
he does) with wishing for the men from Mother 
Midnight's, with their wooden spoons, salt- 
boxes, jews-harps, and broomsticks, to play in 
concei't with me ; I answer him with all the 
gentleness and calmness imaginable — " Indeed, 
my dear, you have not the least notion of these 
things. It would be impossible to bring those 
ridiculous instruments into a concert, and to 
adopt a thorough-bass to them : they have not 
above three notes at most, and those cannot be 
sostenute.'"'' " I wish for all that," answers he, 
" that they were here : I should like them bet- 
ter than all your Signers and Signoras ; and I 
am sure they would cost a great deal less." 

This article of expense he often dwells upon, 
and sometimes even with wannth ; to which I 



reply, with all the mildness that becomes a good 
wife, " My dear, you have a good fortune of 
your own, and I brought you still a better. Of 
what use is money, if not employed ? and how 
can it be better employed, than in encouraging 
and rewarding distinguished gusto and merit ? 
These people, whom you call ballad-singers and 
pipers, are people of birth, though for the moat 
part of small fortunes; and they are much 
more considered, as you know, in Italy, than all 
the greatest ancient Roman heroes, if revived, 
would now be. They leave their own country, 
where they are so infinitely esteemed for their 
moral as well as their musical characters, and 
generously sacrifice all these advantages to our 
diversion. Besides, my dear, what should we 
do with our money ? Would you lavish it away 
upon foundling bastai'ds; lying-in women, who 
have either no husbands or too many ; impor- 
tunate beggars, all whose cries and complaints 
are the most shocking discords ? Or, suppose 
that we were to save our money, and leave our 
children better fortunes, who knows but they 
might, as too many do, squander them away 
idly? whereas what we give to these virtuosi^ 
we know, is given to merit. For my own part, 
my dear, I have infinite pleasure, when I can 
get any of them to accept of fifty or a hundred 
guineas ; which, by the way, cannot always be 
brought about without some art and contri- 
vance ; for they are most exceedingly nice and 
delicate upon the point of honom-, especially in 
the article of money. 1 look upon such trif- 
ling presents as a debt due to superior talents 
and merit ; and I endeavour to insinuate them 
in a way, that the receiver may not blush." 
— Here my husband breaks out into a violent 
passion, and says, — " Ouns, Madam, show me 
a virtuoso, or a virtuoso, (as you call them) who 
ever blushed in their lives, and I will give 
them the fee-simple of my estate." You see, 
Mr. Town, what a strange man he is, that he 
has no idea of elegance and divertimenti ; and 
when he is so violently in alt, I will leave you 
to judge, who it is that is mad, stark mad. 

In short, Sir, my husband is insensible, un- 
tunable, to the most noble, generous, and strong- 
est of all human passions, a passion for music. 
That divine passion alone engrosses the whole 
soul, and leaves no room for lesser and vulgar 
cares ; for you must certainly have observed, 
Mr. Town, that whoever has a passion for, and 
a thorough knowledge of, music, is fit for no 
one other thing. Thus truly informed of my 
case, I am sure you will judge equitably between 
Sir Aaron and 

Your very humble Servant, 

Maria Humkin, 



222 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 131. 



No. 131.] Thursday, July 29, 1756. 



-Inter 



Perfectos veferesque referri debet, an inter 
Viles atque novos ? 



HoR. 



Here the wise youth is deem'd a reverend sage, 
And shares the honours of grey hairs and age : 
Th' old dotard here, whom childish passions rule, 
Takes for his name, an infant and a fool. 

No other disposition or turn of mind so totally 
unfits a man for all the social offices of life, as 
indolence. An idle man is a mere blank in the 
creation : he seems made for no end, and lives 
to no purpose. He cannot engage himself in 
any employment or profession, because he will 
never have diligence enough to follow it : he 
can succeed in no undertaking, for he will never 
pursue it ; he must be a bad husband, father, 
and relation, for he will not take the least pains 
to preserve his wife, children, and family, from 
starving : and he must be a worthless friend, for 
he would not draw his hand from his bosom, 
though to prevent the destruction of the uni- 
verse. If he is born poor, he will remain so all 
his life, which he will probably end in a ditch, 
or at the gallows : if he embarks in trade, he 
Avill be a bankrupt : and if he is a person of 
fortune, his stewards will acquire immense es- 
tates, and he himself perhaps will die in the 
Fleet. 

It should be considered, that nature did not 
bring us into the world in a state of perfection, 
but has left us in a capacity of improvement ; 
which should seem to intimate, that we should 
labour to render ourselves excellent. Very few 
are such absolute idiots, as not to be able to be- 
come at least decent, if not eminent, in their se- 
veral stations, by unwearied and keen applica- 
tion : nor are there any possessed of such tran- 
scendant genius and abilities, as to render all 
pains and diligence unnecessary. Perseverance 
will overcome difficulties, which at first appear 
insuperable ; and it is amazing to consider, how 
great and numerous obstacles may be removed 
by a continual attention to any particular point. 
I will not mention here the trite example of 
Demosthenes, who got over the greatest natu- 
ral impediments to oratory, but content myself 
with a more modern and familiar instance. 
Being at Sadler's Wells a few nights ago, I 
could not but admire the surprising feats of 
activity there exhibited, and at the same time 
reflected, what incredible pains and labour it 
must have cost the performers, to arrive at the 
art of writhing their bodies into such various 
and unnatural contortions. But I was most 
taken with the ingenious artist, who, after fix- 
ing two bells to each foot, the same number to 
each hand, and with great propriety, ])lacing a 
cap and bills on his head, played several tunes, 



and went through as regular triple peals and 
Bob Majors, as the boys of Christ-Church Hos- 
pital ; all which he effected by the due jerk- 
ing of his arms and legs, and nodding hia head 
backward and forward. If this artist had 
taken equal pains to employ his head in another 
way, he might perhaps have been as deep a pro- 
ficient in numbers as Jedediah Buxton, or at 
least a tolerable modern rhj'mer, of which he 
is now no bad emblem : and if our fine ladies 
would use equal diligence, they icight fashion 
their minds as successfully, as Madam Catha- 
rina distorts her body. 

There is not in the world a more useless idle 
animal, than he who contents himself with 
being merely a gentleman. He has an estate, 
therefore he will not endeavour to acquire know- 
ledge : he is not to labour in any vocation, 
therefore he will do nothing. But the misfor- 
tune is, that there is no such thing in nature as 
negative virtue, and that absolute idleness is 
impracticable. He, who does no good, will cer- 
tainly do mischief; and the mind, if it is not 
stored with useful knowledge, will necessarily 
become a magazine of nonsense and trifles. 
Wherefore a gentleman, though he is not oblig- 
ed to rise to open his shop, or work at his trade, 
may always find some w^ays of employing his 
time to advantage. If he makes no advances in 
wisdom, he will become more and more a slave 
to folly : and he that does nothing, because he 
has nothing to do, will become vicious and 
abandoned, or at best ridiculous and contemp- 
tible. 

I do not know a more melancholy object, 
than a man of an honest heart and fine natural 
abilities, whose good qualities are thus destroy- 
ed by indolence. Such a person is a constant 
plague to all his friends and acquaintance, with 
all the means in his power of adding to their 
happiness ; and suff'ers himself to rank among 
the lowest characters, when he might render 
himself conspicuous among the highest. No- 
body is more universally beloved, and more 
universally avoided, than my friend Careless. 
He is a humane man, who never did a bene- 
ficent action : and a man of unshaken inte- 
grity, on whom it is impossible to depend. 
With the best head, and the best heart, he re- 
gulates his conduct in the most absurd manner, 
and frequently injures his friends ; for, whoever 
neglects to do justice to himself, must inevitably 
wrong those with whom he is connected ; and 
it is by no means a true maxim, that an idle man 
hurts nobody but himself. 

Virtue then is not to be considered in the light 
of mere innocence, or abstaining from harm ; 
but as the exertion of our faculties in doing 
good : as Titus, when he had let a day slip, un- 
distinguished by some act of virtue, cried out, 
" I have lost a day." if we regard our time 
in this liglit, how many days shall we look bark 



No. 132.] 



THE CONNOISSELR. 



223 



upon as irretrievably lost? and to how narrow 
a compass would such a method of calculation 
frequently reduce the longest life? If we were 
to number our days, according as we have ap- 
plied them to virtue, it would occasion strange 
revolutions in the manner of reckoning the 
ages of men. We should see some few arrived 
to a good old age in the prime of their youth, 
and meet with sevei'al young fellows of four- 
score. 

Agreeable to this way of thinking, I remem- 
ber to have met with the epitaph of an aged 
man, four years old : dating his existence from 
the time of his reformation from evil courses. 
The inscriptions on most tomb-stones comme- 
morate no acts of virtue performed by the per- 
sons who lie under them, but only record, that 
they were born one day and died anothef. But 
I would fain have those people, whose lives 
have been useless, rendered of some service after 
their deaths, by affording lessons of instruction 
and morality to those they leave behind them. 
Wherefore I could wish, that, in every parish, 
several acres were marked out for a new and 
spacious burying-ground : in which every per- 
son, whose remains are thei-e deposited, should 
have a small stone laid over them, reckoning 
their age, according to the manner in which 
they improved or abused the time allotted them 
in their lives. In such circumstances, the 
plate on a coffin might be the highest panegyric 
which the deceased could receive; and a little 
squai'e stone, inscribed with Ob. Ann. uEtat. 80, 
would be a nobler eulogium, than all the lapi- 
dary adulation of modern epitaphs. In a bury- 
ing-ground of this nature, allowing for the par- 
tiality of survivors, which would certainly 
point out the most brilliant actions of their dead 
friends, we might perhaps see some inscriptions, 
not much unlike the following : — 

Here lie the remains of a celebrated beauty, 
aged 50, who died in her fifth year. She 
was born in her eighteenth year, and was un- 
timely killed by the small-pox in her twenty- 
third. 

Here rests in eternal sleep, the mortal part of 
L. B. a freethinker, aged 88, an infant. He 
came into the Avorld by chance in the year 

, and was annihilated in the first year 

of his age. 

Here continue to rot the bones of a noted 
buck, an embryo, who never showed any signs 
of life ; but after twenty-three years was so 
totally putrified that it could not be kept above 
ground any longer. 

Here lies the swoln carcass of a boon compa- 
nion, who was born in a dropsy in his 40th year. 
He lingered in this condition, till he was obliged 
to be tapped ; when he relapsed into his former 
condition, and died in the second year of his 
age, and twenty-third of his drinking. 

Here lies Isaac Da-Costa, a convert from Ju- 



daism, aged 64. He was born and christened 
in his sixty-first year, and died in the true faith 
in the third year of his age. 

Here is deposited the body of the celebrated 
Beau Tawdry, who was born at court in tho 

year , on a birthnight, and died of grief 

in his second year, upon the court's going into 
mourning. 

Here rots A. B. still-born, who died of a 
fright on the 20th of May, 1756. 

Here rests from his labours the brave General 
B. who died about the lOOth year of his age, 
older than Methuselah. O. 



No. 132.] Thursday, Aug 5, 1756. 



Odi prqfamim valgus et arceo. Hor. 

I hate the vulgar, nor will condescend 

To call a foul-mouth 'd handicraftsman friend. 

I KNOW not any greater misfortune that can 
happen to a young fellow at his first setting out 
iu life, than his falling into low company. He 
that sinks to familiarity with persons much be- 
low his own level, will be constantly weighed 
down by his base connexions ; and, though he 
may easily plunge still lower, he ^vill find it al- 
most impossible ever to rise again. He will 
also inevitably contract a mean air, and an illi- 
beral disposition; and you can no more give 
him an ingenious turn of mind, by a sudden in- 
troduction to genteel company, than you can 
make an apprentice a fine gentleman by dressing 
him in embroidery: though experience teaches 
us, that the mind is, unhappily, sooner distorted 
than reformed; and a gentleman will as readily 
catch the manners of the vulgar, by mixing with 
such mean associates, as he would daub his 
clothes with soot by running against a chimney- 
sweeper, 

A propensity to low company is owing, either 
to an original meanness of spirit, a want of 
education, or an ill-placed pride, commonly 
arising from both the forementioned causes. 
Those who are naturally of a grovelling disposi- 
tion, show it even at school, by choosing their 
play-fellows from the scum of the class, and are 
never so happy as when they can steal down to 
romp with the servants in the kitchen. They 
have no emulation in them ; they entertain 
none of that decent pride, which is so essential 
a requisite in all chai-acters ; and the total ab- 
sence of which in a boy, is a certain indication 
that his riper age will be contemptible. I re- 
member a young fellow of this cast, who, by his 
early attachment to low company, gave up all 
the advantages of a good family and ample for- 
tunt'. He net only lost all his natural interest 
Ti the counlrv ^vhere his estate was situated, 



224 



THE CONNOISSEUH. 



[No. 133. 



but was not honoured with the acquaintance 
of one gentlenaan in it. He lived, indeed, chiefly 
in town, and at an expense sufficient to have 
maintained him among those of the first rank ; 
but he was so perpetually surrounded with men 
of the lowest character, that people of fashion, 
or even those of a much inferior fortune, Avould 
have thought it infamous to be seen with him. 
All the while, he was reckoned, by his asso- 
ciates, to be a mighty good-natured gentleman, 
and without the least bit of pride in him. 

It is one of the greatest advantages of educa- 
tion, that it encourages an ingenuous spirit, and 
cultivates a liberal disposition. We do not won- 
der, that a lad who has never been sent to school, 
and whose faculties have been suffered to rust 
at the hall-house, should form too close an inti- 
macy with his best friends, the groom and the 
game-keeper : but it would amaze us, to see a 
boy, well educated, cherish this ill-placed pride 
of being, as it is called, the head of the company. 
A person of this humble ambition will be very 
well content to pay the reckoning, for the honour 
of being distinguished by the title of The Gen- 
tleman : while he is unwilling to associate with 
men of fashion, lest they should be his superiors 
in rank or fortune ; or with men of parts, lest 
they should excel him in abilities. Sometimes, 
indeed, it happens, that a person of learning and 
genius will stoop to receive the incense of mean 
and illiterate flatterers in a porter-house or 
cyder-cellar ; and I remember to have heard of 
a poet, Avho -was once caught in a bawdy-house, 
in the very fact of reading his verses to the good 
old mother and a circle of her daughters. 

There are some few who have been led into 
low company, merely from an affectation of hu- 
mour ; and from a desire of seeing the droller 
scenes of life, have descended to associate with 
the meanest of the mob, and picked their cronies 
from lanes and alleys. The most striking in- 
stance I know of this low passion for drollery is 
Toby Bumper, a young fellow of family and 
fortune, and not without talents, who has taken 
more than ordinary pains to degrade himself ; 
and is now become almost as low a character as 
any of those whom he has chosen for his com- 
panions. Toby will drink purl in a mortiing, 
smoke his pipe in a night-cellar, dive for a din- 
ner, or eat black-puddings at Bartholomew fair, 
for the humour of the thing. He has also stu- 
died, and practises, all the plebeian arts and exer- 
cises under the best masters ; and has, disgraced 
himself with every impolite accomplishment. 
He has had many a set-to with Biickhorse ; and 
has now and then had the honoin* of receiving a 
fall from the great Broughton himself. Nobody 
is better known among the hackney-coachmen 
as a brother whip : at the noble game of prison- 
bars, he is a match even for the natives of Essex 
or Cheshire; and he is frequently engacod in 
the Artillery-ground with Faulkner and Din- 



gate at cricket, and is himseif esteemed as good 
a bat as either of the Bennets. Another ot 
Toby's favourite amusements is, to attend the 
executions at Tyburn : and it once happened, 
that one of his familiar Intimates was unfortu- 
nately brought thither ; when Toby carried his 
regard to his deceased friend so far, as to get 
himself knocked down in endeavouring to rescue 
the body from the surgeons. 

As Toby affects to mimic, in every particular, 
the air and manner of the vulgar, he never fails 
to enrich his conversation with their emphatic 
oaths and expressive dialect; which recommend 
him as a man of excellent humour and high fun, 
among the high spirits at Comus's court, or at 
the meetings of the "sons of sound sense and 
satisfaction." He is also particularly famous 
for singing those cant songs, drawn up in the 
barbarous dialect of sharpers and pickpoc£.tts ; 
the humour of which he often heightens, by 
screwing up his mouth, and rolling about a large 
quid of tobacco between his jaws. These and 
other like accomplishments frequently promote 
him to the chair in these facetious societies. 

Toby has indulged the same notions of hu- 
mour even in his amours; and is well known to 
every street-walker between Chai-ing-cross and 
Cheapside. This has given several shocks to 
his constitution, and often involved him in un- 
lucky scrapes. He has been frequently bmised, 
beaten, and kicked, by the bullies of Wapping, 
and Fleet-ditch ; and was once soundly drub- 
bed by a soldier, for engaging with his trull, in 
St. James's park. The last time I saw him, he 
was laid up with two black eyes and a broken 
pate, which he got in a midnight skirmish, about 
a mistress, in a night-cellar. 



No. 133.] Thursday, Aug. 12, 1756. 



Sex floras smmto, ioticfan dcs legibtis/equis s 

Quatuor orubis, dcs epulUtquc duas. 
Quod supercst, idiro sacris largire C<im4cnis * 

Co. LiTT. 

TO MR. TOWN. 
Sir, Middle Temple, 

If we look into the several Inns of court, the 
professed students of the law compose a very 
numerous body : but if we afterwards turn our 
eyes on those i'ew who are employed in exercis- 
ing their talents in Westminster-hall, this pro- 
digious army of lawyers shrinks to a very thin 
inconsiderable corps. Thousands, it seems, are 
disgusted with the unpleasing dryness of the 
study, as it is now managed, and conceive an 
unconquerable aversion to the white leaves and 



* See the translation in the body of the paper. 



No. ]33.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



225 



the old black letter. This early dislike to legal 
inquiries certainly proceeds from the fatal mis- 
takes in the plan of study hitherto recommend- 
ed. According to all systems now extant, it is 
absolutely impossible to be at once a lawyer and 
a fine gentleman. Seeing with concern the 
many evils arising from these erroneous princi- 
ples, I have at length devised a method to re- 
medy all these inconveniences ; a method now 
very successfully practised by several young 
gentlemen. Wherefore 1 must beg leave to 
submit my thoughts to the public by means of 
your paper, and to chalk out the outlines of a 
treatise, now ready for the press, entitled, The 
Complete Barrister, or A New Institute of the 
Laws of England. 

My Lord Coke prescribes to our student to 
follow the advice given in the ancient verses, 
prefixed to this letter, for the good spending of 
the day : " Six hours to sleep, six to the study 
of the law, four to prayer, two to meals, and 
the rest to the Muses." But Avhat an absurd 
and unfashionable distribution of the four-and- 
twenty hours ! I will venture a thousand 
pounds to a shilling, that not one student in the 
kingdom divides his time in this manner. Here 
is not a single word of Vauxhall, Ranelagh, the 
theatres, or other public diversions ; not to men- 
tion, that nobody but a Methodist would ever 
think of praying four hours ; and that it would 
be impossible, though we were content with 
snapping up a chop every day at Betty's, to des- 
patch even dinner in two. Ho^v then shall we 
reconcile these precepts, scarce practicable by a 
hermit, to the life of a young gentleman, who 
keeps the best company ? or how can these 
rules for severe application be made consistent 
with the practice of those who divide their 
whole time between eating, drinking, sleeping, 
and amusements? Well knowing that the vo- 
latile dispositions of the yonng gentlemen of 
the present age can never submit the ordering of 
their lives to any prescribed rules, I have endea- 
voured to square my precepts to their lives ; and 
have so contrived the matter, that, amidst the 
keenest pursuit of their pleasures, they shall be 
engaged in the most improving course of the 
law. 

As laws are chiefly nothing else but rules of 
action, what can be more cruel and absurd, than 
to coop up a brisk young man, to learn, in his 
chambers, what he can so much better teach 
himself by going abroad into the world ? I pro- 
pose to dose gentlemen with study, as Dr. Rock 
does with physic, to be taken at home or abroad, 
without loss of time, orhinderance of business. 
This, I am convinced, is not only the best me- 
thod, but also the only scheme which several 
inhabitants of the inns of court would ever fol- 
low. I shall not at present forestall the contents 
of my treatise, by presenting you with a dry 
abstract of it, but rather endeavour to give you 



' an idea of the spirit and manner in which it is 
written, by delineating the plan diligently pur- 
sued by one of my favourite pupils : and I can- 
not but congratulate the bar, that so many 
young men, instead of blinding their eyes and 
bewildering their understandings with Coke, 
Plowden, Salkeld, &c. have sense enough to 
follow the same course of study. 

Tom Riot, the principal ornament of my class 
of students, was sent to the Temple, not with 
any intention that he should become a great 
lawyer, but merely because, for a few years, his 
father did not know how to dispose of him 
otherwise : but so unwearied has been his appli- 
cation to the new method, that his father and 
the rest of his friends will, I doubt not, be sur- 
prised at his wonderful proficiency. As nothing 
is of more consequence to those gentlemen, who 
intend to harangue at the bar, than the acquir- 
ing a ready elocution, and an easy habit of de- 
livering their thoughts in public, to this I paid 
particular attention. For this purpose, 1 ad- 
vised him to a diligent attendance on the thea- 
tres ; and I assure you, IMr. Town, he never 
fails to take notes at a new play, and seldom or 
ever misses appearing, at one house or the other, 
in the green boxes. He has also gathered many 
beautiful flowers of rhetoric, unblown upon by 
any other orators, ancient or modern, from the 
Robin Hood Society ; and at the same place he 
has collected the strongest arguments on every 
subject, and habituated himself to modes of rea- 
soning never hitherto introduced into courts of 
justice. But what has been of more than ordi- 
nary service to him, and is particularly recom- 
mended by Lord Coke himself, who calls " con- 
ference the life of study," is his so frequent at- 
tendance at George's and the other cofiiee-houses 
about the Temple, where every student has so 
many opportunities of benefiting himself by 
daily conversation with counsellors, attorneys, 
clerks to attorneys, and other sages of the 
law. 

The law is intended to take cognizance of all 
our actions ; wherefore my pupil, who is fond 
of exerting his faculties in polite life, has al- 
ready digested almost all the grand leading points 
of the law into a journal of his transactions, 
which I shall lay before my readers at large in 
my treatise, as the best method for a common- 
place-book. Thus, for instance, having been fre- 
quently employed, after leaving the Shakspeare, 
in what is called beating the rounds, it has hap- 
pened him to be taken into custody by the ma- 
gistrate of the night, and carried the next morn- 
ing before a justice; by which means he has 
attained as full a knowledge of certain parts of 
the duty of a constable and justice of peace, as 
could be collected from Dalton, Blackerby, or 
Burn. Certain impertinences of his tailor and 
other tradesmen have given him a very clear 
notion of the laws of arrest, and been of as 



2'26 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No 134. 



much service to him as the best ti'eatlses on bail 
and mainpvize. Besides which, the several sums 
of money which he has taken up at different 
times, payable on his father's death, have opened 
to him some difficult points in conveyancing, by 
teaching him the nature of bonds, deeds, &c. 
and have at the same time shown him what 
Lord Coke calls, "the amiable and admirable 
secrets of the common law," by unravelling to 
him the intricate doctrines of reversion and 
remainder, as well as the general nature of es- 
tates. Thus he is continually improving ; and 
whenever he shall happen to commit a rape, or a 
genteel murder, it will serve him for matter of 
instruction, as well as any history of the pleas 
of the crown, and give him an insight into the 
nature of the practice and extent of the juris- 
diction of our courts of justice. 

By this plan of study no time is lost ; so that, 
while other students are idling away their va- 
cation in the country, my pupil is daily improv- 
ing there. As he is a member of the associa- 
tion, he is very conversant in all the laws enact- 
ed for the preservation of the game ; and be 
picks up all the learning of the circuit, by 
dancing at the balls at the assizes. As his fa- 
ther has a place, he is employed in canvassing 
for votes at the time of an election, which in- 
structs him in all the points of law touching 
those matters. He was principally concerned 
in discovering the Customary Tenants, that 
new species of freeholders unknown to Little- 
ton, Coke, and all the lawyers of antiquity : 
and he is so intimately acquainted with all the 
doctrine contained in the several clauses of the 
bribery act, that I propose publishing in the 
body of my treatise, Les Readings Del Mon 
Seignior Riot Sur L'Estatute de 2 Geo. II. S^c. 

By this time, Mr. Town, you must perceive, 
that the ground of my scheme is, in short, no 
more than this, viz. that the student should re- 
gard his life as a kind of commentary on the 
law, as it is recommended to the clergy to be- 
conje examples of the doctrine they teach. Or, 
to bring my illustration more home to these gen- 
tlemen, let them learn the law by being occa- 
sionally interested in different parts of it ; as 
they become, in some measure, doctors of phy- 
sic from frequent need of it, and can cure them- 
selves in certain cases, as well as Rock himself. 
Instead of poring over books, a gentleman need 
only observe, how far the law and his actions 
tally with each other ; and as it is said by Lord 
Coke, " that the knowledge of the law is like a 
deep well, out of which each man draweth ac- 
cording to the strength of his understanding," 
so, in pursuance of my plan, the student will 
improve according to the eagerness with which 
he engages in his pleasures: and this, no doubt, 
was intended by Lord Coke, as it is the most 
obvious interpretation of his v.ords, when he 
concludes the comparison by saying, that " when 



the professor of the law can dive into the depth, 
it is delightful, easy, and without any heavy 
burthen, so long as he keeps himself in his own 
proper element." 

What plan, Mr. Town, can be more delight- 
ful, easy, and without any heavy burthen, than 
institutes of this nature? I have indeed, often 
looked with concern upon those unhappy gentle- 
men, who have impaired their health by the old 
method of study, and considered them as mar- 
tyrs to huge volumes of reports and statutes at 
large : my pupil will be in no danger of these 
misfortunes. It is recorded of an eminent coun- 
sellor, of the North family, (who, being one of 
the ablest practitioners at the bar, was over- 
loaded w^ith business,) that sometimes choosing 
to retire a while from hurry and perplexity, he 
would say to his clerk, " Tell the people I do 
not practise this term." This proper relaxa- 
tion I always recommend to my pupils, and 
have some reason to think they are prudent 
enough to embrace it ; for, as I am acquainted 
with several students on the new plan, and do 
not remember to have seen them doing any 
business in the courts for some time, I suppose 
they have given notice to their clerks, " to tell 
the people that they did not practise in those 
terms." 
W. I am, Sir, yours, &c. IGNORAMUS. 



No. 134. Thursday, Aug. 19, 175G. 



Dtiida inaJoru7n immeritus lues, 
Rotmine, donee templa rtfeceris 
JEdesque labentes Deonim, et 
Foeda nigro simulacra fumo. 



H.R. 



The tottering tower, and mouldering walls repair. 
And fill with decency the house of prayer : 
Quick to the needy curate bring relief. 
And deck the parish-church without a brief. 

MR. VILLAGE TO MR. TOWN. 

Dear Cousin, 
The country at present, no less than the me- 
tropolis, abounding with politicians of every 
kind, I began to despair of picking up any in- 
telligence, that might possibly be entertaining 
to your readers. However, I have lately visited 
some of the most distant parts of the kingdom 
with a clergyman of my acquaintance: I shall 
not trouble you with an account of the improve- 
ments that have been made in the seats we saw 
according to the modern taste, but proceed to 
give you some reflections, which occurred to us 
on observing several country churches, and the 
behaviour of their congregations. 

The ruinous condition of some of these edi- 
fices gave me great offence ; and I could not 
help wishing, that the honest vicar, instead of 
indulging liis genius for improvements, by ei'.- 



No. 134>] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



227 



closing his goose-berry bushes within a Chinese 
rail, and converting half an acre of his glebe 
land into a bowling-green, would have applied 
part of his income to the more laudable purpose 
of sheltering his parishioners from the weather, 
during their attendance on divine service. It 
is no uncommon thing to see the parsonage 
house well thatched, and in exceeding good re- 
pair, while the church perhaps has scarce any 
other roof than the ivy that grows over it. The 
noise of owls, bats, and magpies, makes a prin 
cipal part of the church-music in many of these 
ancient edifices; and the walls, like a large 
map, seem to be portioned out into capes, seas, 
and promontories, by the various colours w^ith 
which the damps have stained them. Some- 
times, the foundation being too weak to support 
the steeple any longer, it has been found expe- 
dient to pull down that part of the building, 
and to hang the bells under a wooden shed on 
the ground beside it. This is the case in a 
parish in Norfolk, through which I lately 
passed, and where the clerk and the sexton, like 
the two figures at St. Dunstan's, serve the bells 
in capacity of clappers, by sticking them alter- 
nately with a hammer. 

In other churches I have observed, that no- 
thing unseemly or ruinous is to be found, except 
in the clergyman, and the appendages of his 
person. The squire of the parish, or his an- 
cestors perhaps, to testify their devotion, and to 
leave a lasting monument to their magnificence, 
have adorned the altar-piece w^ith the richest 
crimson velvet, embroidered with vine-leaves 
and ears of wheat : and have dressed up the 
pulpit with the same splendour and expense ; 
while the gentleman who fills it, is exalted, in 
the midst of all this finery, with a surplice as 
dirty as a farmer's frock, and a periwig that 
seems to have transferred its faculty of curling 
to the band, w^hich appears in full buckle be- 
neath it. 

But if I was concerned to see several distress- 
ed pastors, as well as many of our country 
churches in a tottering condition, I was more 
offended with the indecency of worship in 
others. I could wish that the clergy would in- 
form their congregations, that there is no occa- 
sion to scream themselves hoarse in making the 
responses ; that the town-crier is not the only 
person qualified to pray with due devotion ; 
and that he who bawls the loudest may, never- 
theless, be the wickedest fellow in the parish. 
The old Avomen too in the aisle might be told, 
that their time would be better employed in at- 
tending to the sermon, than in fumbling over 
their tattered Testaments till they have found 
the text; by which time the discourse is near 
Jrawing to a conclusion : while a word or two 
of instruction might not be thrown away upon 
the younger part of the congregation, to teach 
them, that making posies in summer time, and 



cracking nuts in autumn, is no pai't of the re 
ligious ceremony. 

The good old practice of psalm-singing is, 
indeed, wonderfully improved in many country 
churches since the days of Sternhold and Hop- 
kins; and there is scarce a parish-clerk, who 
has so little taste as not to pick his staves out of 
the New Version. This has occasioned great 
complaints in some places where the clerk has 
been forced to bawl by himself, because the rest 
of the congregation cannot find the psalm at 
the end of their prayer-books ; while others are 
highly disgusted at the innovation, and stick vHs 
obstinately to the Old Version as to the old 
style. The tunes themselves have also been 
new-set to jiggish measures, and the sober drawl, 
which used to accompany the first two staves of 
the hundredth psalm with the Gloria Patri, is 
now split into as many quavers as an Italian 
air. For this purpose, there is in every county 
an itinerant band of vocal musicians, who make 
it their business to go round to all the churches 
in their turns, and after a prelude with the 
pitch pipe, astonish the audience with hymcs 
set to the new Winchester measure, and an. 
thems of their own composing. As these new- 
fashioned psalmodists are necessarily made up 
of young men and maids, we may naturally 
suppose, that there is a perfect concord and sym- 
phony between them : and, indeed, I have 
known it happen, that these sweet singers have 
more than once been brought into disgrace by 
too close an unison between the thorough-bass 
and the treble. 

It is a difficult matter to decide, which is 
looked upon as the greatest man in a country 
church, the parson or his clerk. The latter is 
most certainly held in higher veneration, where 
the former happens to be only a poor curate, 
who rides post every sabbath from village to 
village, and mounts and dismounts at the church- 
door. The clerk's office is not only to tag the 
prayers vrith an amen, or usher in the sermon 
with a stave ; but he is also the universal fa- 
ther to give away the brides, and the standing 
god- father to all the new-born bantlings. But 
in many places there is a still greater man be- 
longing to the church, than either the parson or 
the clerk himself. The person I mean is the 
Squire; who, like the king, may be styled head 
of the church in his own parish. If the bene- 
fice be in his own gift, the vicar is his creature, 
and of consequence entirely at his devotion ; or, 
if the care of the church be left to a curate, the 
Sunday fees of roast beef and plum pudding, 
and a liberty to shoot in the manor, will bring 
him as much under the Squire's command as 
his dog and horses. For this reason the bell is 
often kept tolling, and the people waiting in the 
church-yard, an hour longer than the usual 
time ; nor must the service begin till the Squire 
has strutted up the aisle, and seated himself ia 



228 



THE CONxNOISSEUR. 



[Xo. 135. 



the great pew in the chancel. The length of 
the sermon is also measured by the will of the 
Squire, as formerly by the hour-glass : and 1 
know one parish, where the preacher has always 
the complaisance to conclude his discourse, 
however abruptly, the minute that the Squire 
gives the signal, by rising up after his nap. 

In a village church, the Squire's lady or the 
vicar's wife are perhaps the only females that 
are stared at for their finery ; but in the larger 
cities and towns, where the newest fashions are 
brought down weekly by the stage-coach or 
w^aggon, all the wives and daughters of the niost 
topping tradesmen vie with each other every 
Sunday in the elegance of their apparel. I 
could even trace the gradations in their dress, 
according to the opulence, the extent, and the 
distance of the place from London. 1 was at 
church in a populous city in the North, where 
the macebearer cleared the way for Mrs. May- 
oress, who came sidling after him in an enor- 
mous fan-hoop, of a pattern which had never 
been seen before in those parts. At another 
church, in a corporation town, I saw several 
Negligees, Avith furbelowed aprons, which had 
long disputed the prize of superiority : but 
these w^ere most wofully eclipsed by a burgess's 
daughter, just come from London, who appeared 
In a TroUoppeeor Slammerkin, with treble ruffles 
to the cuffs, pinked and gymped, and the sides 
of the petticoat dravrn up in festoons. In some 
lesser borough towns, the contest, I found, lay 
between three or four black and green bibs and 
aprons : at one a grocer's wife attracted our 
eyes by a new-fashioned cap, called a Joan ; and 
at another, they were Avholly taken up by a 
mercer's daughter, in a Nun's Hood. 

I need not say any thing of the behaviour of 
the congregations in these more polite places of 
religious resort ; as the same genteel ceremonies 
are practised there, as at the most fashionable 
churches in town. The ladies immediately on 
their entrance, breathe a pious ejaculation 
through their fan-sticks, and the beaux very 
gravely address themselves to the haberdasher's 
bills, glued upon the linings of their hats. This 
pious duty is no sooner performed, than the exer- 
cise of bowing and curtsying succeeds : the 
locking and unlocking of the pews drowns the 
rfcadei"'s voice at the beginning of the service ; 
and the rustling of silks, added to the whisper- 
ing and tittering of so much good company, 
renders him totally unintelligible to the very 
end of it. 

I am, 
T. dear Cousin, 

yours, S:c-. 



No. 135.] Thursday, Aug. 26, 1756. 



Vos sapere, et solos iiio bene vivae, quorum 
Conspicitur nitidis fundata pccunki vlHs. 1 1 ■ i 

O Cit thrice happy, that cann range 
To Bow or Clapham from tlie 'Change j 
In whose spruce vilia is displayed 
The plum thou hast acquired by trade ! 

I AM sorry to have provoked the resentment of 
many of our present poets by rejecting their com- 
positions ; which, as they abound in high-flown 
metaphors and compound epithets, were, J 
feared, too sublime for my humble province of 
plain prose. I have found, that the same poeti- 
cal genius, which could soar to an Ode, can be 
whetted to a most cutting Satire against me and 
my works; and one in particular has poured 
forth his whole wrath upon me in an Acrostic. 
But I need not offer any apology for laying the 
following verses before the public, which may 
be considered as a supplement to a former paper 
on the like subject. The easy elegance, which 
runs through the whole, will readily distinguish 
them to come from the same hand, that has 
more than once obliged us in the course of this 
undertaking. 

The wealthy cit, grown old in trade, 
Now wishes for the rural shade, 
And buckles to his one-horse chair 
Old Dobbin, or the foundered mare ; 
While wedged in closely by his side 
Sits madam, his unwieldy bride. 
With Jacky on a stool before 'em ; 
And out they jog in due decorum. 
Scarce past the turnpike half a mile. 
How all the country seems to smile ! 
And as they slowly jog together, 
The cit commends the road and weather : 
While Madam doats upon the trees. 
And longs for every house she sees ; 
Admires its views, its situation ; 
And thus she opens her oration. 

" What signifies the loads of wealth. 
Without that richest jewel, health ? 
Excuse the fondness of a wife, 
W' ho doats upon your precious life ! 
Such ceaseless toil, such constant care. 
Is more than human strength can bear : 
One may observe it in your face- 
Indeed, my dear, you break apace : 
And nothing can your health rcixiir, 
But exercise and country air, 
Sir Trafiic has a house, you know. 
About a mile from Cheney Row : 
He's a good man, indeed, 'tis true ; 
But not so warm, my dear, as you : 
And folks are always apt to sneer — 
One would not be outdone, my dc.ir.' 

Sir Traffic's name, so well applied. 
Awaked his broUier merchant's pride ; 
And Thrifty, who had all his life 
Paid utmost deference to his wife. 
Confessed the argument had reason ; 
And by the approaching summer season, 
l>raws a few hundreds from the stocks. 
And purchases his country box. 



No. 136,] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



229 



Some three or four miles out of town, 
(An hour's ride will bring you down,) 
He fixes on his choice abode. 
Not half a furlong from the road : 
And so convenient does it lay. 
That stages pass it every day, 
And then so snug, so mighty pretty, 
To have a house so near the city ! 
Take but your places at the Boar, 
You're set down at the very door. 

Well then, suppose them fix'd at last, 
White-washing, painting, scrubbing past ; 
With all the fuss of moving over : 
Hugging themselves in ease and clover, 
Lo ! a new heap of whims are bred. 
And wanton in my lady's head. 
" Well ! to l:e sure, it must be own'd, 
It is a charming spot of ground ; 
So sweet a distance for a ride. 
And all about so countryfied ! 
'T would come to but a trifling price. 
To make it quite a paradise. 
I cannot bear those nasty rails. 
Those ugly, broken, mouldy pales ; 
Suppose, my dear, instead of these. 
We build a railing all Chinese. 
Although one hates to be expos'd, 
'Tis dismal to be thus enclos'd : 
One hardly any object sees — 
I wish you'd fell those odious trees. 
Objects continual passing by. 
Were something to amuse the eye : 
But to be pent within the Walls— 
One might as well be at St. Paul's. 
Our house-beholders would adore. 
Was there a level lawn before ; 
Nothing its views to incommode. 
But quite laid open to the road ; 
While ev'ry trav'ller, in amaze. 
Should on our little mansion g?.zc. 
And, pointing to the choice retreat, 
Cry, • That's Sir Thrifty's country scat. " 

No doubt, her arguments prevail 
For Madam's taste can never fail. 

Blest age! when all men may procure 
The title of a Connoisseur ; 
When noble and ignoble herd 
Are^overn'd by a single word ; 
Though like the royal German dames. 
It bears a hundred Christian names ; 
As Genius, Fancy, Judgment, Goiit, 
Whim, Caprice, Je-nescai-quoi, Virtu ; 
Which appellations all describe 
Taste, and the modern tasteful tribe. 

Now bricklayers, carpenters, and joiners. 
With Chinese artists and designers. 
Produce their schemes of alteration, 
To work this wondrous reformation. 
The useful dome, which secret stood 
Embosom'd in the yew-tree's wood. 
The traveller with amazement sees 
A temple, Gothic or Chinese. 
With many a bell and tawdry rag on. 
And crested with a sprawling dragon. 
A wooden arch is bent astride 
A ditch of water four feet wide : 
With angles, curves, and zigzag lines. 
From Halfpenny's exact designs. 
In front a level lawn is seen. 
Without a shrub upon the green : 
Where taste would want its first great law, 
But for the skulking sly ha-ha : 
By whoso miraculous assistance 
You gain a prospect two fields distance. 



And now from Hyde Park corner come 
The Gods of Athens and of Rome : 
Here squabby Cupids take their places, 
With Venus and the clumsy Graces : 
Apollo there, with aim so clever. 
Stretches his leaden bow for ever ; 
And there without the power to fly. 
Stands fix'd a tip-toe Mercury. 

The villa thus completely grae'd. 
All own that Thrifty has a taste : 
And madam's female friends and cousins. 
With common-council-men by dozens. 
Flock ev'ry Sunday to the seat, 
To stare about them, and to eat. 



No. IZG.] Thursday, Sept. 2, 1756. 



— -HGmlnem pagmia nostra sapit. Mart. 

To paint mankind, ouj- sole pretence ; 
And all our wisdom, common sense. 

We, whose business it is to write loose essays, 
and Avho never talk above a quarter of an hour 
together on any one subject, are not expected to 
enter into philosophical disquisitions, or engage 
in abstract speculations ; but it is supposed to 
be our principal aim to amuse and instruct the 
reader, by a lively representation of what passes 
I'ound about him. Thus, like those painters 
who delineate the scenes of familiar life, we 
sometimes give a sketch of a marriage a la mode, 
sometimes draw the outlines of a modern mid- 
night conversation, at another time paint the 
comical distresses of itinerant tragedians in a 
barn, and at another give a full draught of the 
rake's or harlot's progress. Sometimes we 
divert the public by exhibiting single portraits'; 
and when we meet with a subject where the 
features are strongly marked by nature, and 
there is something peculiarly characteristic in 
the whole manner, we employ ourselves in 
drawing the piece at full length. In a word, 
we consider all mankind as sitting for their pic- 
tures, and endeavour to work up our pieces with 
lively traits, and embellish them Avith beautiful 
colouring : and though, pei'haps, they are not 
always highly finished, yet they seldom fail 
of pleasing some few, at least, of the vast mul- 
titude of Critics and Connoisseurs, if we are so 
happy as to hit off a striking likeness. 

There is perhaps no knowledge more requi- 
site, and certainly none at present more ardently 
sought after, than the knowledge of the world. 
In this science we are more particularly expect- 
ed to be adepts, as well as to initiate, or at least 
improve, our readers in it. And though this 
knowledge cannot be collected altogether from 
books, yet (as Pope says) "men may be read, 
as well as books, too much ;" and it is to be 
lamented, that many, who have only consulted 
the volume of life, as it lay open before them, 



430 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 137. 



have rather become worse than better by theii* 
studies. They who have lived wholly in the 
Avorld without regarding the comments on it, 
are generally tainted with all its vices, to which 
the gathering part of their instructions from 
books would perhaps have proved an antidote. 
There, indeed, though they would have seen 
the faults and foibles of mankind fairly repre- 
sented, yet vice would appear in an odious, and 
virtue in an amiable light; but those who un- 
warned go abroad into the world, are often 
dazzled by the splendour with which wealth 
gilds vice and infamy ; and being accustomed to 
see barefoot honesty treated with scorn, are 
themselves induced to consider it as contempti- 
ble. For this reason, I am a good deal offended 
at the ingenious contrivance of our modern 
novelists and writers of comedy, who often 
gloss over a villanous character with the same 
false varnish that lackers so many scoundrels in 
real life ; and while they are exhibiting a fel- 
low Avho debauches your daughter or lies with 
your wife, represent him as an agreeable crea- 
ture, a man of gallantry, and a fine gentleman. 

The Avorld, even the gayest part of it, may 
be painted like itself, and yet become a lesson of 
instruction. The pieces of Hogarth (to recur 
to the illustration 1 first made use of) are faith- 
ful delineations of certain scenes of life, and 
yet vice and folly always appear odious and con- 
temptible. I could wish it were possible to 
learn the knowledge of the world, witbcut 
being "hackneyed in the ways of man :" but 
as that is impracticable, it is still our duty so 
to live in it, as to avoid being corrupted by our 
intercourse with mankind. We should endea- 
vour to guard against fraud, without becoming 
ourselves deceitful; and to see every species of 
vice and folly practised round about us, without 
growing knaves and fools. The villany of 
others is but a poor excuse for the loss of our 
own integrity : and though, indeed, if 1 am at- 
tacked on Hounslow- Heath, I may lawfully 
kill the highwayman in my own defence ; yet 
I should be very deservedly brought to the 
gallows, if I took a puise from the next person 
I met, because I had been robbed myself. 

The knowledge of the world, as it is general- 
ly used and understood, consists not so much in 
a due reflection on its vices and follies, as in the 
practice of them ; and those, who consider 
themselves as best acquainted with it, are either 
the dupes of fashion, or slaves of interest. _It 
is also supposed to lie within the narrow com- 
pass of every man's own sphere of life, and re- 
ceives a different interpretation in difforcirt sta- 
tions. Thus, for instance, the man of fashion 
seeks it no where but in the polite circle of the 
beau-mo mle ; Avhilc the mnn of business looks 
no farther for it than t!>e alley. I ahaU beg 
leave to illustrate this, by concluding this paper 
with a description vi' (wo characters; each of 



whom, though diametrically opposite to the 
other, has acquired a thorough knowledge of 
the world. 

Sir Han*y Flash had the good luck to be born 
before his brother Richard : consequently, the 
heir to the estate was bred a gentleman, and 
the other condemned to plod in the dull drud- 
gery of business. The merchant was sent to 
learn accompts at the Academy upon Tower- 
Hill, and the baronet had the finishing of bis 
education in France. Sir Harry is now a most 
accomplished fine gentleman, is an excellent 
judge of fashions, and can calculate the odds at 
any game, as readily as Hoyle or Demoi^Te : 
the Alderman is the most knowing man upon 
'Change, and understands the rise and fall of 
stocks better than any Jew. Both of them 
know the world ; but with this difference, that 
one by his consummate knowledge has run out 
of a large estate, while the other lias raised a 
plum by it. O. 



No. 1S7.] Tkursday, Sept, 9, 1756. 



Fliinc comcikndmn ct dcridendum vclis profiri k 

'ItH. 

To all his guests a joke, the glutton loid 
Seems the jack -pudding of liis own rich board. 

TO MR. TOWN. 

Sir, 

What cloying meat is love, when " matrimony 
is the sauce to it !" says Sir John Brute. But 
if he had been married to such an Epicurean 
consort as I am joined with, those expressions, 
that savour of the kitchen, would have been 
real, instead of metaphorical. We live in aland 
really flowing with milk and honey, and keep 
a house of entertainment for all comers and 
goers. We hardly ever sit down to table less 
in number than twenty or thirty, and very 
often to above double that number of dishes. 
In short. Sir, so much feasting has given nie a 
surfeit. 

There are, T see, scattered up and down your 
papers, several accounts of the petty distresses 
and domestic concerns of private families. As 
you have listened to many complaints from 
husbands, 1 flatter myself, you will not refuse 
your attention to the humble remonstrance of a 
wife ; being assured, that my only reason for 
thus serving up my dear lord as a new dish to 
gratify the public taste, is to check (if possible) 
his violent passion for giving his friends enter- 
tainments of another kind ; which, if indulged 
much longer, must eat us out of house and 
home. 

The magnificent feasts of Timon of Athen.-', 
or the stories of old English Hosi)it3lity, would 
t;ivo youbut a faint idea (d" the ]»orpetual riot 



No. 137.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



231 



and luxury of our family. Our house is always 
stored with as large a quantity of provisions as 
a garrison in expectation of a siege, and those 
too of the dearest and most extravagant kind. 
Ortolans and woodcocks are as common as 
sparrows, and red mullets are scarce a greater 
rarity with us than gudgeons or sprats ; while 
turtle and venison are regarded as branches 
of citizen-luxury, which scarce deserve notice 
among the many other delicacies in which we 
abound. Authors, they say, (you will pardon 
me, Mr. Town,) are seldom admitted to great 
entertainments ; and I can assure you, that it 
is not easy for any, but those who are present, 
to conceive the parade and extravagance dis- 
played in our house. I myself am condemned 
to sit at the head of the table, while my lord is 
placed at the other end, in pain and uneasiness 
at my awkward mistakes in doing the honours. 
You must know. Sir, that I was bred up under 
a housewifely aunt in the countiy, who taught 
me to pickle and preserve, and gave me, as I 
thought, a tolerable notion of cookery. But, 
alas ! though I understand plain boiled and 
roast, and have a very good notion of a pudding, 
I am often totally ignorant of the names and 
compositions of the delicacies before me, and 
have imagined fish to be fowl, and mistaken a 
jietit patee for a plebeian mince-pie. In the 
mean time, my lord is displaying his exquisite 
taste, by deciding upon every dish, and pro- 
nouncing, with a critical smack, upon the fla- 
vour of the wines ; all the while not a little 
solicitous about the exactness of the removes, 
and the duly adjusting the entremets. Claret, 
Burgundy, and Champagne abound, like ale or 
small-beer; and even Hermitage and Tokay 
are swallowed with as little remorse as Port or 
Lisbon. To add to all this, is most absurdly 
introduced the French custom of serving in les 
liqueurs ; which consist of almost as many sorts 
as are contained in the advertisements from the 
Rich Cordial Warehouse. In a word, every 
common dinner with us is a feast ; and when 
we have what my lord calls an entertainment, 
it is an absolute debauch. 

But there is no part of this monstrous ex- 
pense affects me so much, as the vast sums ridi- 
culously lavished on a dessert. This piece of 
folly and extravagance could be nothing but the 
joint product of a Frenchman and a confec- 
tioner. After the gratification of the appetite 
with more substantial fare, this whip-syllabub 
raree-show is served up, chiefly to feed the eye ; 
not but that the materials, of which the dessert 
Js composed, are as expensive as the several in- 
gredients in the dinner : and I will leave you to 
your own method of rating the rest, after telling 
you, that my lord thinks himself an excellent 
economist, by having reduced the expense of 
the hot-house to a thousand per ann. which per- 
haps the admirers of exotic fruits will not 



think dear, since we have pine-apples in as 
gi-eat plenty as golden pippins or nonpareils. 

One would think, that the first requisite in 
eating was extravagance ; and that, in order to 
have any thing very good, it must be produced 
at a time when it is out of season. Therefore 
one of the principal uses of our hot-house is to 
invert the order of nature, and to turn winter 
into summer. We should be ashamed to see 
peas upon our table, while they are to be had at 
a common market; but we never spare any 
cost to provide a good crop, by the assistance of 
our hot-beds, at Christmas. We have no relish 
for cucumbers during the summer months, when 
they are no rarity ; but we take care to have 
them forced in November. But my lord mostly 
prides himself on the improvements that he 
has made in his mushroom-beds ; which he has 
at length brought to so great perfection, that by 
the help of horse-dung, and throwing artificial 
sunbeams through a burning-glass we can raise 
any quantity of mushrooms, of the right Italian 
kind, at two hours warning. 

From the hot-house we may make a very na- 
tural transition to the kitchen ; and as in the 
former every thing must be produced out of 
season, so every thing in the latter must undergo 
a strange metamorphosis. The ordinary dis- 
tinctions of fish, flesh, and fowl, are quite de- 
stroyed ; and nothing comes upon table under 
its proper form and appellation. It is impossi- 
ble to conceive what vast sums are melted down 
into sauces ! We have a cargo of hams every 
year fi-om Westphalia, only to extract the es- 
sence of them for our soups ; and we kiU a 
brace of bucks every week, to make a coulis of 
the haunches. Half a dozen turkeys have been 
killed in one day, merely for the sake of the 
pinions ; I have known a whole pond dragged, 
to furnish a dish of carp's palates ; and ten legs 
of mutton mangled raw, to make out a dish of 
pope's eyes. 

The concomitant charges of the cellar, you 
wiU imagine, are no less extravagant ; and, in- 
deed, it is not enough that we abound in the 
best French and Italian wines, (which, by the 
bye, are purchased on the spot at an extraordi- 
nary price) but we must have several other 
kinds of the highest value, and consequently of 
most delicious flavour ; and though but a taste 
of each has been sipped round by the company, 
the same bottles must never be brought a se- 
cond time upon table, but are secured as per- 
quisites by the butler, who sells them to the 
merchant, who sells them back again to my 
lord. Besides these, his lordship has lately 
been at an immense charge in raising a Pinery, 
in order to try the experiment of making Cyder 
of Pine-apples ; which he hopes to do at little 
more than treble the expense of Champagne. 
To this article I might also add the charge of 
his Ice-houses : for although these are stored 



232 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 138. 



with a home commodity, originallj' of no value, 
yet I may venture to say, that every drop of 
water comes as dear to us, as the most costly of 
our wines. 

As all our liquors, I have told you, are of fo- 
reign gi-owth, and all our dishes distinguished 
by foreign titles, you will readily conceive, that 
our household is chiefly composed of foreigners. 
The Maitre d' hotel is a Frenchman : the butler 
out of livery, and his two under butlers, are 
Frenchmen: the clerk of the kitchen is a 
Frenchman : and Monsieur Fricando, the head 
cook, to be sure is a Frenchman. This gentle- 
man never soils his fingers in touching the least 
bit of any thing; but gives his orders (like a 
general) to four subalterns, who are likewise 
Frenchmen. The baker, the confectioner, the 
very scullions, and even the fellow that looks 
after the poultry, are all of them Frenchmen. 
These, you may be sure, are maintained at 
very high salaries : and though Monsieur Fri- 
cando had the pay of a captain in a marching 
regiment, my lord was forced to double his wages 
at the beginning of the war, and allow him the 
free exercise of his religion, to prevent his 
leaving the kingdom. 

I am sorry to add, that this pride of keeping 
a table has visibly impaired my lord's fortune : 
and this very summer he has been obliged to 
fell all the timber on his estate, as I may say, 
to keep up his kitchen fire. The only satisfac- 
tion, which he can possibly reap from all this 
expense, is the vanity of having it said, " that 
nobody treats so elegantly as his lordship ;" and 
now and then, perhaps, reading in the news- 
papers, " that such a day the right honourable 

gave a grand entertainment at his house 

in , at which were present the principal 

officers of state and foreign ministers." 

1 am. Sir, your humble servant, &c. 



No. 138.] Thursday, Sept. 16, 1756. 



Sfita/d semper lege et ratioiic loqucndi. Hon. 

Youi- talk to decency and reason suit, 
Nor prate like fools or gabble like a brute. 

Im the comedy of the Frenchman in London, 
which we are told was acted at Paris with uni- 
versal applause for several nights together, there 
is a character of a rough Englishman, who is 
represented as quite unskilled in the graces of 
conversation ; and his dialogue consists almost 
entirely of a repetition of the common saluta- 
tion of how do you? Our nation has, in- 
deed, been generally supposed to be of a sullen, 
and uncommunicative disposition ; while, on 
the otlier hand, the loquacious French have been 
allowed to possess the ai t of conversing beyond 



all other people. The Englishman requires to 
be wound up frequently, and stops as soon as 
he is down ; but the Frenchman runs on in a 
continual alarum. Yet it must be acknowledged, 
that, as the English consist of very different 
humours, their manner of discourse admits of 
great variety : but the whole French nation 
converse alike ; and there is no difference in 
their address between a Marquis and a Valet de 
Chambre. We may frequently see a couple of 
French barbers accosting each other in the 
street, and paying their compliments with the 
same volubility of speech, the same grimace 
and action, as two courtiers on the Thuilleries. 

1 shall not attempt to lay down any particu- 
lar rules for conversation, but rather point out 
such faults in discourse and behaviour, as render 
the company of half mankind rather tedious 
than amusing. It is in vain, indeed, to look for 
conversation where we might expect to find it 
in the greatest perfection, among persons of 
fashion : there it is almost annihilated by univer- 
sal card-playing : insomuch that I have heard 
it given as a reason, why it is impossible for 
our present writers to succe-ed in the dialogue 
of genteel comedy, that our people of quality 
scarce ever meet but to game. All their dis- 
course turns upon the odd trick and the four 
honours ; and it is no less a maxim with the 
votaries of Whist than with those of Bacchus, 
that talking spoils company. 

Every one endeavours to make himself as 
agreeable to society as he can : but it often hap- 
pens, that those who most aim at shining in 
conversation, overshoot their mark. Though a 
man succeeds, he should not (as is frequently 
the case) engi'oss the whole talk to himself; for 
that destroys the very essence of conversation, 
which is talking together. We should try to 
keep up conversation like a ball bandied to and 
fro from one to the other, rather than seize it 
all to ourselves, and drive it before us like a 
foot-ball. We should likewise be cautious to 
adapt the matter of our discourse to our com- 
pany; and not talk Greek bf^fore ladies, or of 
the last new furbelow to a meeting of country 
justices. 

But nothing throws a more ridiculous air 
over our whole conversation, than certain pecu- 
liarities easily acquired, but very difficultly con- 
quered and discarded. In order to display these 
absurdities in a truer light, it is my present 
purpose to enumerate such of them as are most 
commonly to be met with ; and first to take 
notice of those buifoons in society, the Attitudi- 
narians and Face-makers. These accompany 
every word with a peculiar grimace or gesture : 
they assent with a shrug, and contradict with a 
twisting of the neck ; are angry by a wry mouth, 
and pleased in a caper or a minuet step. They 
may be considered as speaking Harlequins ; an 1 
their rules of eloquence are taken from the po-- 



No. 138.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



233 



ture-master. These should be condemned to 
converse only in dumb show with their own 
pei-sons in tin; looking-glass ; as well as the 
Smirkers and Smilers, who so prettily set off 
their faces, together with their words, hjaje- 
ne-scai-quoi between a grin and a dimple. With 
these we may likewise rank the affected tribe of- 
Mimics, who are constantly taking off the pe- 
culiar tone of voice or gesture of their acquain- 
tance ; though they are such wretched imitators, 
tliat (like bad painters) they are frequently 
forced to write the name under the picture, be- 
fore we can discover any likeness. 

Next to these, whose elocution is absorbed in 
action, and who converse chiefly with their 
arms and legs, we may consider the Professed 
Speakers. And first, the Emphatical, who 
squeeze, and press, and ram down every syllable 
with excessive vehemence and energy. These 
orators are remarkable for their distinct elocu- 
tion and force of expression : they dwell on the 
important particles of and the, and the signifi- 
cant conjunction and; which they seem to 
hawk up, with much difficulty, out of their 
own throats, and to cram them, with no less 
pain, into the ears of their auditors. These 
should be suffered only to syringe, (as it were) 
the ears of a deaf man, through a hearing- 
trumpet : though I must confess, that I am 
equally offended with the Whisperers or Low- 
speakers, who seem to fancy all their acquain- 
tance deaf, and come up so close to you, that 
they may be said to measure noses with you, 
and frequently overcome you with the full exha- 
lations of a stinking breath. 1 would have 
these oracular gentry obliged to talk at a dis- 
tance through a speaking-trumpet, or apply 
their lips tO; the walls of a whispering-gallery. 
The Wits, who will not condescend to utter 
any tiling but a ho7i mot, and the Whistlers or 
Tune-hummers, who never articulate at all, 
may be joined very agi-eeably together in con- 
cert ; and to these tinkling cymbals I would 
also add the sounding brass ; the Bawler, who 
inquii-es after your health with the bellowing of 
a town- crier. 

The Tatlers, whose pliable pipes are admi- 
rably adapted to the " soft parts of conversation," 
and sweetly '< prattling out of fashion," make 
very pretty music from a beautiful face and a 
female tongue ; but from a rough manly voice 
and coarse features, mere nonsense is as harsh 
and dissonant as a jig from a hurdy-gurdy. The 
Swearers I have spoken of in a former paper ; 
but the Half-swearers, who split, and mince, 
and fritter their oaths into gad's bud, ad's fish, 
and demme, the Gothic Humbuggers, and those 
who nick-name God's creatures, and call a man 
a cabbage, a crab, a queer cub, ai> odd fish, and 
an unaccountable muskin, should never come 
into company, without an interpreter. But I 
will not tire my reader's patience by pointing 



out all the pests of convei'sation ; nor dwell 
particularly on the Sensibles, who pronounce 
dogmatically on the most trivial points, and 
speak in sentences ; the Wonderers, who are 
always wondering what o'clock it is, or wonder- 
ing whether it will rain or no, or wondering 
when the moon changes ; the Phraseologists, 
who explain a thing by all that, or enter into 
particulars, v.ith this and that and t'other ; and, 
lastly, the Silent Men, who seem afraid of open- 
ing their mouths, lest they should catch cold, 
and literally observe the precept of the Gospel, 
by letting their conversation be only yea yea, 
and nay nay. 

The rational intercourse kept up by conversa- 
tion, is one of our principal distinctions from 
brutes. We should therefore endeavour to tura 
this peculiar talent to our advantage, and con- 
sider the organs of speech as the instruments of 
understanding : we should be very careful not 
to use them as the weapons of vice, or tools of 
folly, and do our utmost to unlearn any trivial 
or ridiculous habits, which tend to lessen the 
value of such an inestimable prerogative. It is, 
indeed, imagined by some philosophers, that 
even birds and beasts (though without the 
power of articulation) perfectly understand one 
another by the sounds they utter ; and that dogs, 
cats, &c. have each a particular language to 
themselves, like different nations. Thus it 
may be supposed, that the nightingales of Italy 
have as fine an ear for their own native wood- 
notes, as any Signer or Signora for an Italian 
Air; that the boars of Westphalia gruntle as 
expressively through the nose, as the inhabitants 
in High- German; and that the frogs in the 
dykes of Holland croak as intelligibly, as the 
natives jabber their Low-Dutch. However 
this may be, we may consider those, whose 
tongues hardly seem to be under the influence 
of reason, and do not keep up the proper con- 
versation of human creatures, as imitating the 
language of different animals. Thus, for in- 
stance, the aflSnity between Chatterers and 
Monkeys, and Praters ^and Parrots, is too ob- 
vious not to occur at once; Grunters and 
Growlers may be justly compared to Hogs; 
Snarlers are Curs, that continually show their 
teeth, but never bite; and the Spitfire passionate 
are a sort of wild cats, that will not bear strok- 
ing, but will purr when they are pleased. Com- 
plainers are Screech-Owls ; and Story-tellers, 
always repeating the same duU note, are Cuckoos. 
Poets, that prick up their ears at their own 
hideous braying, are no better than Asses : Cri- 
tics in general are venomous Serpents, that de- 
light in hissing ; and some of them, who have 
got by heart a few technical terms without 
knowing their meaning, are no other than 
Magpies. I myself, who have crowed to the 
whole town for near three years past, may per- 
haps put my readers in mind of a Dunghill 
Hh 



234 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 139. 



Cock; but as I must acquaint them, that they 
will hear the last of me on this day fortnight, I 
hope they will then consider me as a Swan, 
who is supposed to sing sweetly at his dying 



moments. 



W. 



No. 139.] Thursday, Sept. 23, 1756. 



•Sui/u: superbiam 



Qiupsifam meriiis.- 



Now to the utmost all your labours charge, 
And show your mighty consequence at large. 

1 WROTE to my Cousin Village, informing him 
of my design to finish with the next number ; 
and have received the following answer from 
him, which I shall lay before my readers. 
Dear Cousin, 
It was not without some regret, that I re- 
ceived advice of your intentions to bid adieu to 
the public : for, as you had been so kind as to 
introduce me to their notice, I began to indulge 
all the weakness and vanity of a young author ; 
and had almost persuaded myself that I was 
the principal support of your papers. Con- 
scious of my own importance, I expect that 
you will do me the justice to acknowledge, how 
much you are indebted to the assistance of your 
very ingenious Cousin ; and I care not how 
many compliments you pay me on my wit and 
learning : but at the same time I must beg leave 
to put in a caveat against your disposing of me 
in what manner you yourself please. Writers 
of essays think themselves at liberty to do what 
they will with the characters they have intro- 
duced into their works ; as writers of tragedy, 
in order to heighten the plot, have often brought 
their heroes to an untimely end, when they have 
died quietly many years before in their beds ; 
or as our chroniclers of daily occurrences put a 
duke to death, give away an heiress in marriage, 
or shoot off an admiral's legs whenever they 
please. Mr. Addison, while he was caiTying 
on the Spectator, said, " he would kill Sir Roger 
de Coverly, that nobody else might murder 
him." In like manner, my dear Cousin, you 
may take it into your head to cut me off j you 
may perhaps make an end of me by a cold 
caught in partridge-shooting, or break my neck 
in a stag-hunt. Or you may rather choose to 
settle me perhaps with a rich old country dowa- 
ger, or press me into the army, or clap me on 
board of a man of war. But I desire that 
you will 'not get rid of me by any of these 
means ; but permit me to assure your readers, 
that I am alive and merry ; and this is to let 
them know, that I am in good health at this 
present writing. 

Your papers, I assure vou, have made a great 



noise in the country; and the most intelligent 
among us read you with as much satisfaction as 
the Evening Posts or the Weekly Journals. I 
know more than one squire, who takes them In 
constantly with the Magazines; and I was 
told by the post-master of a certain town, that 
they came down every, week, under cover to 
the butler of a member of parliament. There 
is a club of country parsons, who meet every 
Saturday at a neighbouring market-town, to be 
shaved and exchange sermons : they have a 
subscription for books and pamphlets : and the 
only periodical works ordered in by them are 
the Connoisseur, and the Critical nnd Monthly 
Reviews. I was lately introduced to this so- 
ciety, when the conversation happened to turn 
upon Mr. Town. A young curate, just come 
from Oxford, said he knew you very well at 
Christ Church, and that you was a comical 
dog : but a Cantab, declared, no less positively, 
that you was either a pensioner of Trinitj', or 
a commoner of Bennet's. People, indeed, are 
very much perplexed about the real author: 
some affirm, that you are a nobleman, and 
others will have it that you are an actor : some 
say you are a young lawyer, some a physician, 
some a parson, and some an old woman. 

The subjects of your papers have often been 
wrested to various interpretations by our pene« 
trating geniuses ; and you have hardly drawn a 
character, that has not been fixed on one or 
other of the greatest pei-souages in the nation. 
1 once heard a country justice express his won- 
der, that you was not taken up, and set in the 
pillory; and I myself, by some of my rural 
intelligence, have brought upon you the resent- 
ment of several honest squires, who long to 
horsewhip the scoundrel for putting them in 
print. Others again are quite at a loss how to 
pick out your meaning, and in vain turn over 
their Bailey's Dictionary for an explanation of 
several fashionable phrases ; which, though they 
have enriched the town-language, have not yet 
made their way into the dialect of tbc country. 
Many exquisite strokes of humour are also lost 
upon us, on account of our distance from the 
scene of action ; and that wit, which is very 
brisk and lively upon the spot, oftentimes whol- 
ly evaporates in the post-bag. 

You moralists are very apt to flatter your- 
selves, that you are doing a vast deal of good by 
your labours ; but whatever reformation you 
may have worked in town, give me leave to tell 
you, that you have sometimes done us harm in 
the country, by the bare mention of the vices 
and follies now in vogue. From your intelli- 
gence, some of our most polite ladies have learn- 
ed, that it is highly genteel to have a rout ; and 
have copied the fashion^so exactly, as to play at 
cards on Sundays. Your papers upon dress set 
all our helles at work in following the mode : 
you no sooner took notice of cocked hats, but 



No. 140.] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



235 



every bat in the parish was turned up behind 
and before ; and when you told us, that the 
town beauties went naked, our rural damsels 
immediately began to throw off their clothes. 
Our gentlemen have been also taught by you 
all the new arts of betting and gaming : and 
the only coffee-house in one little town, where 
the most topping inhabitants are used to meet 
to play at draughts and back-gammon, has, from 
the great increase of gamesters who resort to 
it, been elegantly christened by the name of 
White's, 

As to the small share which I myself have 
bad in your work, you may be sure every body 
here is hugely delighted with it; at least you 
may be sure, that I will say nothing to the 
contrary. I have done my best to contribute to 
the entertainment of your readers ; and, as the 
name of Steele is not forgotten in the Spectator, 
though Addison has run away with almost all 
the honour, I am in hopes, that whenever the 
great Mr. Town is mentioned, they may possi- 
bly think at the same time on 

Your affectionate Cousin and Coadjutor, 

Village. 

After 'this account, which my Cousin has 
sent me, of the reception I have met with in 
the country, it will be proper to say something 
of my reception here in town. I shall there- 
fore consider myself in the threefold capacity 
of Connoisseur, Critic, and Censor General. 
As a Connoisseur, in the confined sense of the 
word, I must own I have met with several 
mortifications. I have neither been made 
F. R. S, nor even a member of the Academy 
of Bourdeaux or Fetersburgh. They have left 
me out of the list of trustees to the British 
Museum; and his Majesty of Naples, though 
he presented an " Account of the Curiosities 
found in Herculaneum" to each of the Uni- 
versities, never sent one to me. I have not 
been celebrated in the Philosophical Transac- 
tions, or in any of our Magazines of Arts and 
Sciences; nor have I been styled tres-illustre, 
tres-sqavant in any of the foreign Mercuries or 
Journals Litteraires. Once, indeed, I soothed 
myself in the vain thought of having been dis- 
tinguished by the great Swedish Botanist, Lin- 
naeus, under the title of Eruditissimus Urbanus, 
which I conceived to be the name of Town la- 
tinized ; but, to my great disappointment, I 
afterwards discovered, that this was no other 
than the learned naturalist, Mr. Silvanus Ur- 
ban, author of the Gentleman's Magazine. 
This n^Iect of me as a Connoisseur, I can at- 
tribute to no other cause, than to my not having 
made myself known by my Musaeum, or Ca- 
binet of Curiosities : and, to say the truth, I 
am not worth a farthing in antique coins ; nor 
have I so much as one single shell or butterfly. 
All my complaints against the modern innova- 
tions of taste have been therefore disregarded ; 
and with concern I still see the villas of our 



citizens fantastically adorned with Chinese 
palings, and our streets encumbered with su- 
perb colonnades, porticos, Gothic arches, and 
Venetian windows, the ordinary decorations of 
the shops of our tradesmen. 

Nor have I, as a Critic, met with greater 
success or encouragement, in my endeavours to 
reform the present taste in literature. I ex- 
pected to have the privilege of eating beef gi-a- 
tis every night at Vauxhall, for advising the 
garden poets to put a little meaning in their 
songs : but, though I was there several nights 
this summei', I could not say (with Cassio) of 
any of their productions, " that is a more ex- 
quisite song than the other." I have not been 
able to write the operas out of the kingdom, 
and, though I have more than once showed my 
contempt for Harlequin, I am assured there are 
no less than three Pantomimes to be brought on 
this season. As I invested myself with the 
dignity of supreme judge in theatrical matters, 
I was in hopes that my Lord Chamberlain 
would at least have appointed me his Deputy- 
Licenser ; but he has not even consulted me on 
any one new play. I made no doubt but the 
managers would pay their court to me ; but 
they have not once sent for me to dinner ; and, 
so far from having the freedom of the house, I 
declare I have not had so much as a single order 
from any of the under-actors. 

In my office of Censor General, though I 
cannot boast of having over-turned the card- 
tables at routs and assemblies, or brok^ up the 
club at Arthur's, I can safely boast, that I 
have routed the many-headed monster at the 
Disputant society at the Robin Hood, and put 
to silence the gi-eat Clare-market Orator. In a 
word, I have laboured to prevent the growth of 
vice and immorality ; and with as much effect 
as the justices of the quarter-sessions. For this 
reason 1 expected to have been put in the com- 
mission, and to have had the power of licensing 
all places of public diversion vested solely in my 
hands. . But as I find my merits have been 
hitherto over-looked, I am determined to lay 
down my office ; and in ray next number I shall 
take my final leave of the public, when 1 shall 
give them an account of my correspondents, to- 
gether with a full and particular account of my- 
self. T. 



Pers. 



No. 140.] Thursday, Sept. 30, 1756. 



Vel duo, vel nenw. 

Censor nor he, nor he ; or both or none : 
A two-fold author, Messieurs Mr. Town. 



-Penc gemelli. 



Fraternis animw. 



HOR. 



Sure in the self-saHie mould their miads were cast, 
Twins in affection, judgment, humour, taste. 

p£RiowcAL writers, who retail their sense oi 



236 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



[No. 140. 



nonsense to the world slieet by sheet, acquire a 
sort of familiarity and intimacy with the public, 
peculiar to themselves. Had these three vo- 
lumes, which have swelled by degrees to their 
present bulk, burst forth at once, Mr. Town 
must have introduced himself to the acquain- 
tance of the public with the awkward air and 
distance of a stranger : but he now flatters him- 
self, that they will look upon him as an old 
companion, whose conversation they are pleased 
with : and, as they will see him no more after 
this time, will now and then perhaps miss their 
usual visitor. 

However this may be, the authors of the Con- 
noisseur now think proper to close the under- 
taking, in which they have been engaged for 
near three years past : and among their general 
thanks to the indulgent readers of their papers, 
they must include in a particular manner their 
acknowledgments to those, who have been 
pleased to appear in them as writers. They 
have, therefore, at the close of their work, 
brought Mr. Town and his associates on the 
scene together, like the dramatis persona; at the 
end of the last act. 

Our earliest and most frequent correspondent 
distinguished his favours by the signatures 
G. K. and we are sorry, that he will not allow 
us to mention his name ; since it Avould reflect 
as much credit on our work, as we are sure will 
redound to it from his contributions. To him 
we are proud to own ourselves indebted for 
most part of No. 14 and 17 ; for the letter signed 
Goliah English, in No. 19 ; for a great part of 
No. S3 and 40 ; and for the letters, signed, Re- 
ginald Fitzworm, Michael Krawbridge, Moses 
Orthodox, and Tho. Vaiuall, No. 102, 107, 113, 
and 129. 

The next, in priority of time, is a gentleman 
of Cambridge who signed himself A. B. and 
we cannot but regret that he withdrew his as- 
sistance, after having obliged us with the best 
part of the letters in No. 46, 49, and 52, and of 
the essays in No. 62 and 64. 

The letters in No. 82, 98, 112, and 130, came 
from various hands, equally unknown to us. 
The imitation of Horace, in No. 11, was 
written (as we are informed) by a gentleman 
of Oxford : and from two gentlemen of Cam- 
bridge we received the letter signed W. Manly, 
in No. 65, and another, signed B. A. in No. 
107. 

These unexpected marks of favour, conferred 
on us by strangers, demand our highest grati- 
tude ; but we are no less happy in being able to 
boast the assistance of some other gentlemen, 
whom we are proud to call friends, though we 
are not at liberty to introduce them to the ac- 
quaintance of our readers. From a friend en- 
gaged in the Law, we had the tirst sketches and 
most striking passages of No. 75, 78, 87, and 
lOl; though it may be regretted by the public 



as well as ourselves, that his leisure would not 
pei-mit him to put the finishing hand to them. 
From a friend, a gentleman of the Temple, we 
received No. Ill, 115, and 119. To a friend, a 
member of Trinity College, Cambridge, we 
are indebted for the song in No. 72, and the 
verses in No. 67, 90, 125, and 135. The list of 
contributions from such capable friends would 
doubtless have been much larger, had they been 
sooner let into the secret : but as Mr. Town, 
like a great prince, chose to appear mcog. in 
order to avoid the impertinence of the multi- 
tude, he did not even make himself known to 
those about his person, till at last they them- 
selves found him out through his disguise. 

There are still remaining two correspondents, 
who must stand by themselves : as they have 
wrote to us not in an assumed charactfer, but in 
p7'opria persona : the first is no less a personage 
than the great Orator Henly, who obliged U8 
with that truly original letter, printed in No. 
37. The other, who favoured us with a 
letter, no less original, in No. 70, we have rea- 
son to believe is a Methodist teacher and mecha- 
nic ; and we do not know either his name or 
his trade. 

We now come to the most important disco- 
very of ourselves, and to answer the often re- 
peated question of, who is Mr. Town? it being 
the custom for pei'iodical writers, at the same 
time that they send the hawkers abroad with 
their last dying speech like the malefactors, like 
them also to coixple it with a confession. The 
general method of unravelling this mystery is 
by declaring, to whom the diff^erent signatures, 
affixed to different papers, are appropriated. 
For ever since the days of the inimitable Spec- 
tator, it has been usual for a bold capital to 
stand, like a sentry, at the end of our essays, to 
guard the author in seci-ecy : and it is commonly 
supposed^ the writer, who does not choose to put 
his name to his work, has in this manner, like 
the painters and statuaries of old, at least set 
his mark. But the authors of the Connoisseur 
confess, that the several letters at first pitched 
upon to bring up the rear of their essays, have 
been annexed to different papers at random, 
and sometimes omitted, on purpose to put the 
sagacious reader on a wrong scent. It is parti- 
cularly the interest of a writer, who prints him- 
self out week by week, to remain unknown, 
during the course of this piece-meal publication. 
The best method, therefore to prevent a disco- 
very, is to make the road to it as intricate as 
possible ; and, instead of seeming to aim at 
keeping the reader entirely in the dark, to hang 
out a kind of wandering light, which only 
serves to load him astray. The desire of giving 
each writer his due, according to the signatures, 
has, in the course of this undertaking, often 
confused the curious in their inquiries. Soon 
after the publication of our first papers, some 



No. im] 



THE CONNOISSEUR. 



237 



ingenious gentlemen found out, that T, O; W, K, 
being the letters thai formed the name of 
TOWN, there were four authors, each of 
whom sheltered himself under a particular 
letter ; hut no paper appearing with an N. af- 
tixed to it, they Tivera obliged to give up this no- 
tion. But, if they had been more able decy- 
pherers, they would have made out, that though 
T, O, W, will not compose the name of TOWN, 
yet, by a different arrangement of the letters it 
will form the word TWO ; which is the grand 
mystery of our signatures, and couches under it 
the true and I'eal number of the authors of the 
Connoisseur. 

Having thus declared 2»Ir. Town to consist 
of two separate individuals, it will perhaps be 
expected, that, like two tradesmen, who have 
agreed to dissolve their partnership, we should 
exactly balance our accounts, and assign to each 
his due parcel of the stock. But our accounts 
are of so intricate a nature, that it would be 
impossible for us to adjust them in that manner. 
We have not only joined in the ■work taken to- 
gether, but almost every single paper is the 
joint product of both : and, as we have laboured 
oqually in erecting the fabric, we cannot pretend, 
tiiat any one particular part is the sole work- 
manship of either. A hint has perhaps been 
started by one of us, improved by the other, 
and still further heightened by a happy coalition 
of sentiment in both ; as fire is struck out by a 
mutual collision of flint and •teel. Sometimes, 
like Strada's lovers conversing with the sym- 
pathetic needles, we have written papers toge- 
ther at fifty miles distance from each other : the 
first rough draught or loose minutes of an essay 
have often travelled in a stage-coach from town 
to country, and from country to town ; and we 
have frequently waited for the postman (whom 
we expected to bring us the precious remainder 
of a Connoisseur) with the same anxiety, as 
we should wait for the half of a bank note, 
Avithout which the other half would be of no 
value. These our joint labours it may easily 
be imagined, would have soon broke off abrupt- 
ly, if either had been too fondly attached to his 
own little conceits, or if we had conversed to- 
gether with the jealousy of a rival, or the com- 
plaisance of a formal acquaintance, who smiles 
at every word that is said by his companion. 
Nor could this work have been caiTied on, with 
so much cheerfulness and good humour on both 
sides, if the Two had not been as closely united; 



as the two Students, whom the Spectator men- 
tions, as recorded by a Torres Filius at Oxford, 
" to have had but one mind, one purse, one 
chamber, and one hat." 

It has been often remarked, that the reader is 
very desirous of picking up some little particu- 
lars concerning the author of the book which he 
is perusing. To gratify this passion, msny li- 
terary anecdotes have been published, and an 
account of their life, character, and behaviour, 
has been prefixed to the works of our most cele- 
brated writers. Essayists are commonly ex- 
pected to be their own Biographers : and per- 
haps our readers may require some further in- 
telligence concerning the Authors of the Con- 
noisseur. But, as they have all along appeared 
as a sort of Socias in literature, they cannot now 
describe themselves any otherwise, than as one 
and the same person ; and can only satisfy the 
curiosity of the public, by giving a short ac- 
count of that respectable personage Mr. Town, 
considering him as of the plural, or rather (ac- 
cording to the Grecians) of the dual number. 

Mr, Town is a fair, black, middle-sized, very 
short man. He wears his own hair, and a 
periwig. He is about thirty yeai's of age, and 
not more than four-and-twenty. He is a stu- 
dent of the law, and a bachelor of physic. He 
was bred at the university of Oxford ; where 
having taken no less than three degrees, he looks 
down on many learned professors, as his infe- 
riors : yet, having been tliere but little longer 
than to take the first degree of bachelor of arts, 
it has more than once happened, that the Cen- 
sor-General of all England has been reprimand- 
ed by the Censor of his College, for neglecting 
to furnish the usual essay, or, (in the collegiate 
phrase) the theme of the v/eek. 

This joint description of ourselves will, we 
hope, satisfy the reader, without any further in- 
formation. For our own parts, we cannot but 
be pleased with having raised this monument of 
our mutual friendship, and if these essays shall 
continue to be read, when they will no longer 
make their appeai'auce as the fugitive pieces of 
the week, we shall be happy in considering, 
that we are mentioned at the same tinle. We 
have all the while gone on, as it were, hand in 
hand together : and while we are both employed 
in furnishing matter for the paper now before 
us, v/e amnot help smiling at our thus making 
our exit together, like the tuo Kings of Brent- 
ford smelling at one nose^av. W. O. 



THE END. 



NOTICE 



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And Embellished with elegant Engravings on Steel, 

Comprising in only 6 Octavo Vols., the whole 45 Vols, of other Editions, and at prices 
calculated to induce all classes to become purchasers. 

THS BHITISXX ESSAiriSTS, 

COMPRISING THE 



SPECTATOR; Complete, mth Engravings, 
-^'TATLER AND GUARDIAN ; Complete in 
4 RAMBLER and IDLER ; ib. 

^ MIRROR AND LOUNGER; ib. 

^^^AD VENTURER ; by Dr. Hawkesworth, 
WORLD ; by Chesterfield and others, 
OBSERVER; by Cumberland, . 
A CONNOISSEUR, .... 



Vol. 



16^. 
Us. 

9s. 

7s. 6d. 

5s. 

Qs. 6d. 



Boards. 



Others to complete the Series of British Essa3nsts, are printing uniformly with the above, 
to comprise, in 6 Vols. 8vo., the 45 Vols, of other Editions, and presenting vast saving 
of expense, both in the works and binding. 



LB Ag '05 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent; Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

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